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(jWn^i^ S-U^rif 



BATTERY B 

Thru the Fires of France 



Being a very human and intimate 
sketch of a few men who served 
stem a tiny eddy in oyie of the great- 
est of cataclysms — the World War 



B Y 

ERNEST STONE 



Battery B. Second Battalion 
Anti- Aircraft Artillery, C.A.C. 



COPYRIGHT, 1919 



WAYSIDE PRESS 
311 East Fourth Street 
Los Angeles, California 



DEC 27 1919 



)CI.A559e24 



'*/viO \ 



JJS70 

.1 
.$7i 



FOREWORD 

In this great moment of peace and lawn parties, 
good fellowship and woman's presence; of wake- 
less nights and a bountiful table — a paradise — it 
is difficult to recall the days spent in France under 
arms, much less the actual ' ' call of the cannon. ' ' 

As I sit in my studio gazing out over green 
stretches, blossoming trees and buzzing bees, I am 
tempted to ascend into that state of mental bliss, 
sequel to a midsummer's dream, and romp with 
ethereal children. 

Yet, thru the pages of this book I return to the 
past with a keen sense of enjoyment, nor would I 
forfeit one iota of experience gained ''over there." 
I recall Battery B with a smile; the farewell, the 
ocean voyage, France, the Front and the roar of 
a million cannon. 

The whole panoramic picture unfolds in a flash 
then disappears with but a trace fluttering in the 
wind. The incidents are personal, but the pictures 
are of stuff such as a million Yanks touched in 
that march towards Berlin. Thus can one share, 
if the reader but transpose the proper nouns. 
There were a thousand Corporal Blankys, and Cap- 
tain Ironhand's shadow stalked in every quarter 
of the camp. How familiar old Paris and that 
letter the French maiden wrote; the cannon's roar 
and the army beans which contained an equal 
number of pebbles per pan. 



Captain Ironhand and Corporal Blanky are 
notn de plumes. All other characters are properly 
named and true to life. Members of Battery B 
will readily recognize the "plumes" and perhaps 
will recall a bitter taste. I make no apologies; I 
have stated the facts. 

This little book is my humble contribution to 
that memorable epoch of our globe's history — 1914- 
1918. It is intended for boys who have made the 
journey. Others may linger over the written 
words and perchance catch a glimpse of the real, 
but how well we realize that actual experience is 
the master key to all symbolic code. 



(j>Vn£i^ jCt<ntf 



Hollywood, California. 
Summer 1919. 



CONTENTS 



Chapter 



Page 



Foreword ------- 3-4 

1 Prologue ------- 9 

2 Farewell ------- 12 

3 Journey Overland ----- 15 

4 Corporal Blanky ------ 18 

5 Sedalia ------- 20 



6 Lake Erie 



22 



7 The Iron Hand ------ 25 

8 Our First March ------ 29 

9 The Embarkation ----- 32 

10 On the High Sea - - - - - - 35 

11 21,000 Meals Daily ----- 39 

12 A Colored Tragedy ----- 42 

13 Gambol, Gamble and Gospel - - - 45 

14 France .-------50 

15 A Lively Reception ----- 53 

16 Yea. Unto Eternity ----- 56 

17 From Brest to Paris ----- 60 

18 Fort de Stains ------ 64 

19 Comedy and Tragedy - - - - 68 

20 Captain Ironhand Falls - - - - 74 

21 Local Travel ------ ^^ 

22 A Parisian ------- 80 

23 Paris— The Pageant City - - - - 84 

24 Just Girls ------- 89 

25 St. Denis of Old - - - - - 92 

26 Eight Hundred, B. C. - - - - - 98 

27 Final Preparations . - - - - 101 

28 We Crawl Up to the Front - - - - 107 

29 Front Line Sport ----- 113 

30 Battle of St. Mihiel ----- 118 

31 Victory ------- 1Z6 

32 Kaleidoscopic Days ----- 131 
IZ The Advanced Front _ - - - 138 



Chapter Page 

34 The Fun Begins ------ 141 

35 The Palace ------ 146 

36 A French Seventy Five - _ - - 152 
Zl A Day at the Gun Pit - - - - 157 

38 Types of Planes ------ 162 

39 Human Wasps ------ 164 

40 Modern Apartments ----- 168 

41 Three Letters ------ 171 

42 Our Second Plane ------ 177 

43 Balloon A-Fire ------ 180 

44 Human Nature ------ 184 

45 Plain Racket ------ 187 

46 "Deacon," "Silent" and J - - - - 190 

47 Days of Fun ------ 196 

48 Censored Mail ------ 201 

49 Last Days of the War - . - - 204 

50 November 11th. 1918 ----- 208 

51 A Poem ------- 211 

52 Glad Tidings ------ 214 

53 Homeward Bound ----- 216 

54 The Mud-Hole ------ 222 

55 On the High Sea - - - - - . 226 

56 The Horror of War ----- 230 

57 Food Jugglers ------ 232 

58 Statue of Liberty ------ 234 

59 Camps Merritt and Dix - - - - 236 

60 California and Home ----- 240 



BATTERY B 

thru 
The Fires of France 



CHAPTER I. 

Prologue 

Our transport the Amerika, a pre-war German 
liner, departed from its mooring on the tenth day 
of June, nineteen eighteen. Seven thousand troops 
were aboard and a happier, more venturesome lot 
of lads I have seldom seen. Their quest was not a 
selfish one — for personal pleasures or gold — but 
an entry into the Great Adventure, and their bet- 
ter natures fairly shone in the afternoon sun. 

There were few persons about the wharf, chiefly 
stevedores and sailors bent on their daily tasks, 
and the usual sea of handkerchiefs and shouting 
was sadly not in evidence. This was a stern busi- 
ness — a war-business — and being of this nature the 
troops were being shipped by the thousands, yes 
hundreds of thousands, every month from dozens 
of handkerchiefless wharfs systematically, secretly, 
and at each sailing the public was not aware of 
the departure. 

Uncle Sam could ill-afford to have his secrets 
known to the enemy. Yonder across the sea lay 
submarines, wolves of the ocean, ready to swoop 
down upon their prev. Thp Lusitania had sailed 
gloriously into the Great Beyond and the sacrifice 
was great, but the lesson was indelibly stamped 
upon the National Consciousness of Free America. 
This lesson and the pirates of the sea were prime 
factors in Uncle Sam taking every precaution to 



10 THRU THE FIEES OF FEANCE 

protect his fighting men. Empty wharfs and secret 
sailing, then, M^as necessary and when the order 
sounded forth, ' ' all below, ' ' the troops disappeared 
within the great iron walls of the gigantic liner 
without protest. 

Below deck I closed my eyes and mentally wit- 
nessed the departure. As we cleared New York 
harbor I could "see" the famous Our Lady of 
Liberty, gift of the French, plainly silhouetted 
against the late afternoon sun and it seemed to 
me that a great fire was burning in the torch ; a 
fire that would continue, I thot, for all time ; a fire, 
the sparks of which would invade every American 
home and keep the home-fires burning; a fire that 
illuminated the world ; a fire that symbolized SAC- 
EIFICE. 

Yes, Ave were on an errand; some would survive 
but many would journey into the Great Beyond 
and there witness the heavenly splendors of the 
Great Torch of Sacrifice. Nor did my meditations 
upon such matters give me a misgiving. Rather I 
felt uplifted, I was anxious to proceed to the land 
of activity. I wanted to share the life of my 
brothers "over there." 

It was later that I chanced a conversation with 
one lad who had wisely, or otherwise, taken refuge 
among the sailors and witnessed the historical de- 
parture — historic as far as we were concerned for 
were we not the center of the Universe? It was 
on this occasion that I wrung from my soldier 
friend the following: "Boy, my heart sure did 
come up in my throat when that Grand Old Lady 
said good-bye." 



PROLOGUE 11 

You know, a soldier is not supposed to be senti- 
mental or weak, but brave and strong and iron-like. 
On this occasion the statement of my soldier-friend 
expressed the sentiment of every other heart 
aboard. 



CHAPTER 2 

Farewell 

It was on the 31st day of May, 1918, that our 
troop-train departed from the station at San Diego, 
California. On this day my sweet wife stood amid 
a crowd of townsfolk leaning on her father's arm. 
Battery B stood in rank upon the station platform 
after having executed a ''squads left" and "Bat- 
tery halt." At the command of "rest" each 
soldier was permitted to see his loved ones once 
more — perhaps for the last time. 

Mrs. Stone rushed over to my side and, strange 
as it may seem, not a tear did I discover. Ah! 
brave girl, but I knew the heartache that was hers? 
and she could see the struggle that I was making. 
Just before arriving at the station my little girl 
had purchased a full bag of fruits and nuts and a 
couple of magazines. These she gave me and a kiss 
for good measure. 

Other sweethearts were among the ranks, too; 
wives and mothers, frtd +>"^ same heart-burning 
was theirs I know. Fathers were saying farewell 
to their sons and their hand-shakes were firm, but 
mothers, wives and sweethearts gave tender hugs 
and kisses as their tokens of farewell. 

Five minutes later the Battery was ordered 
aboard but luckily we did not start for some min- 
utes. Mrs. Stone came aboard and we sat together 
upon a comfortable leather sofa in the closed com- 



FAREWELL 13 

partment of our ear. In those preeious moments 
we made anew our pledges, and the love and under- 
standing that passed between us was sufficient to 
urge one to brave the gates of hell, even. Yes, to 
the end of time would she be true. 

Orders came to clear the ears — a last embrace — 
and a few seconds later I was at the side window. 
Once more we held hands. I made an effort to 
reach down for an extra kiss. The lad at the next 
window was doing likewise and all up and down 
the platform were sweethearts reaching up and 
lovers reaching down. A sea of waving handker- 
chiefs and shouting and — the whistle! We were 
moving ! 

"Goodbye, goodbye" is heard from all sides. It 
was then that the fountain of tears o 'erflowed ; the 
dear girl had held on desperately, but now, now I 
was actually being carried away. Soon I would 
be lost in the hazy distance, perhaps to be gone for 
many years. At this juncture tears as large as 
apples began to flood my eyes and my heart 
throbbed — and would I ever, ever see her, my 
darling wife, again? The parting kisses, parting 
words and growing distance were revolving in my 
dazed mind. 

Father Time waits for no man. That day we 
embarked upon a new journey. 

Twenty-eight days later "somewhere in France" 
I received my wife's first letter: "It is early and 
the beginning of a new month (June 1). We both 
stand at the threshold of a new life to which we 
must adjust ourselves. Shall we falter? * * * * I 



14 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

have not cried one tiny tear. What have I to weep 
about? * * * * This is my 'front-line trench' and 
I am readv. * * * *" 



CHAPTER 3 
Journey Overland 

Our route carried us over the Salt Lake Line, 
through the Mojave desert, across the border and 
into Nevada. For the purpose of concealing troop 
movements we traveled over branch roads, skirted 
large cities and stopped at odd places. 

Our first stop was Las Vegas, Nevada, and at 
this small village we quit the train to take our 
first exercise. 

The Battalion traveled in two sections; 3 com- 
panies in one, 2 in the other, including the medical 
staff, numbering 520 enlisted men and 15 officers 
in all. Each section trailed an extra baggage car 
which was used for a kitchen. 

Our mess was carried out along efficient lines, to 
the sorrow of our porter. We received two cooked 
meals and one lunch per day. Breakfast consisted 
of rice, usually, or a cereal, bread, butter and cof- 
fee ; and on one occasion, biscuits. We were always 
ready at meal time. Those who happened to be 
asleep or interested otherwise soon were awakened 
from their reveries for there would descend upon 
their heads a noise such as one hears on New Year's 
Eve ; clanking of mess-tins, shouting and a general 
up-roar. 

The K. P.s (kitchen police) would juggle an in- 
fant tub, filled with "chow" down the aisle of the 
moving train and in dishing out to the waiting 
mess-pans would not always find the mark. Our 



16 THEU THE FIEES OF FRANCE 

i» 

colored porter had his sweet time, you bet, though 
he was good-natured and lafpT the boys fully paid 
him for his labors. His gratitude grew and grew 
and his affection was good to see. 

After performing a few acrobatic feats with our 
mess-tins placed upon our knees or on the window- 
sills, or on the red-floor, we retired to the vestibule 
to wash our "dishes." The refuse can was a poor 
excuse, for many times the garbage would be scat- 
tered upon the platform. The buckets containing 
hot water, supposedly, usually contained cold 
water. However we managed and after each meal 
the garbage and the extra water, splashed upon 
the vestibule platform, found a path into the cor- 
ridor and even into the toilet compartment. This 
state of affairs was not improved and the porter 
of our car patiently cleaned up after each meal 
through the entire trip. 

To remain clean was an impossibility and the 
stock of fresh towels was quickly exhausted. The 
men evidently preferred to economize in water for 
our towels were soon made black. 

Considering the equipment each soldier carried 
and the general untidiness usually prevalent among 
a group of men (there are always a few who are 
slouchy and careless) the interior of our Pullman 
sleeper presented a comical sight, indeed. I have 
had occasion to travel in Pullmans in civil life and 
know what the general appearance and comforts 
are. The contrast was decided. From the ceiling 
to the spaces beneath the seats every possible inch 
was discovered and filled. Back-carriers, hats, coats 
and what-not were tied to the overhanging chande- 



JOURNEY OVERLAND 17 

liers. Bed hammocks were exposed after the berths 
were made up and these nets could expand and 
expand until an enormous amount of truck could 
be stowed away. 

In our car there happened to be a reddish powder 
upon the floor (for what purpose I could not dis- 
cover) and of course everything pushed under our 
seats received a good coating of red. The dust 
poured in through the open windows during travel 
(soldiers are not accustomed to closed circum- 
stances) and particles of food answered Newton's 
law; this and the red dust and white dust, com- 
bined, made us a pretty dirty, grimy outfit. 



CHAPTEE 4 

Corporal. Blanky 

One member of our Battery was a rustler, a 
regular East-end Izy Kazat. This corporal Blanky 
would get permission from the Commanding Officer 
to run up-town whenever we stopped along the 
road and stock up with fruit, nuts, candy, cigar- 
ettes and cigars. During the first two days he did 
an ordinary fruit-stand business, but each day be- 
came more daring and speculative until about the 
fourth day out he was conducting a department 
store. Yes sir, you could buy handkerchiefs, tow- 
els, shoestrings, magazines and books. 

Blanky had arranged a temporary counter over 
two seats and any hour of the day you could find 
him sitting supremely on top of the world, with a 
cigar in the corner of his mouth and hat cocked, 
dispensing his wares. 

It was a war-department order that no man leave 
the trains without permission from the Command- 
ing Officer. Blanky held the monopoly. But it 
was well for it centralized the business and, while 
we were all supplied with ''eats" at a fair price, at 
the same time it gave Blanky a profit for his serv- 
ices. 

About 6 :30 p. m. the second day we reached the 
state of Utah and later at Provo we changed over 
to the Denver-Eio Grand. On the desert it was 
hot, here it was cold. We passed through Grand 



CORPOEAL BLANKY 19 

Junction, Colorado, at 4 p. m. and that night at 
twelve we ascended to 10,000 feet above sea-level 
and crossed the Great Divide at Tennessee Pass. 

It was my turn at guard on this occasion and 
while the Battery was tucked away in sleep T 
stepped out into the ripid night air and filled my 
lungs to overflowing with the pine-scented moun- 
tain ozone. I breathed deep and long and was re- 
minded of the ever growing distance between the 
loved One at home and myself. The Rockies pre- 
sented the first great physical barrier between us, I 
thought. 

Descending the eastern watershed was a simple 
task for our modern giant locomotive. Just at 
dawn we entered the Royal Gorge. In all the 
world, perhaps, there is not a more picturesque 
spot. The canyon was appropriately named for it 
is truly Royal. 

We followed the river in and out through the 
stately Gorge and at five in the morning reached 
Pueblo the city of my birth. As my parents de- 
serted Pueblo for country more mountainous in 
nature while I was still of tender age I did not re- 
member the city. When I discovered the huge 
banks of smoke overhanging the city I was glad 
that my parents had changed their abode. 

At Pueblo we switched over to the Missouri-Pa- 
cific, reaching the state of Kansas at 11 -.30 the 
same day (June 3). Switching from one line to 
another was in name only and we retained the 
original coaches of our through-train during the 
entire journey. 



CHAPTER 5 

Sedalia 

About noon the fourth day we passed through 
the small town of Sedalia, Missouri. Here we re- 
ceived a royal reception. Bed Cross girls and 
workers were on hand early and we were served 
ice-cream which was excellent in quality and thrice- 
excellent in quanity. 

Our daily exercise was taken at this lively little 
city and as we marched through the streets the 
townspeople fairly carried us away. Later at the 
depot our quartette (Ingram, Fleck, Steiler and 
Ginn) sang in good measure and when the people 
shouted for more we all sang. ! yes, our Battery 
was noted as the ' ' singing bunch. ' ' 

The boys made eyes at the girls on the side 
and of course the fair sex all just dearly loved the 
soldier. When our train departed an hour later 
the boys of the Battery cast back many longing 
glances. 

On this occasion hundreds of post office addresses 
changed hands and the secret service men were 
more than foiled in their efforts to guard and up- 
hold Uncle Sam's rule that no military information 
reach the public, but nothing could stay the daunt- 
less energy of youth. This custom was secretly in 
order during our entire trip. 

It was later at Conneaut, Ohio, early one eve- 
ning, that an avalanche of humans descended upon 
our train and scores, yes hundreds of addresses 



SEDALIA 21 

passed from girl to soldier and from soldier to girl. 
There were kisses thrown in for good measure at 
this place and it was my ill-fortune or fortune ( ask 
Mrs. Stone) to be left entirely in the cold. But I 
enjoyed the energetic tactics of the grown-up 
babies that mother so recently had cut loose from 
her apron strings. 

To this day some of the boys are in correspond- 
ence with "our lady in America" who had casually 
given an address to a passing soldier and I am not 
missing my guess if more than one match will be 
the result. While some of the boys were lavish at 
first with their letters to addresses galore, others 
dropt their mailing list completely. Of course 
there were a few good permanent ones — girls worth 
knowing as revealed in letters — and these girls re- 
ceive letters from their soldier boys even to this 
date. 



CHAPTER 6 

Lake Erie 

The fifth day we traveled through Indiana over 
the Wabash and Nickel Plate and late in the after- 
noon came to the shore of Lake Erie. Here was 
an opportunity for a bath and in less time than it 
usually takes to undress we were all splashing and 
swimming in the merriest sort of fashion, filled with 
glee and shouting. 

The water was not cold as was our expectation 
but otherwise, and later we regretfully left the 
lake. We playfully jumped around upon the shore 
stark naked and imagined that we were kids back 
at the old swimming hole. 

The dip was refreshing and the boys were well 
supplied with topics for conversation for the re- 
mainder of the day. A bit later the moving train 
reminded us that we were making a journey in the 
stern interests of war. 

That night we cut through a small strip of New 
York state and next morning traveled through 
Pennsylvania. At Sayre, just over the border, we 
stopped for exercise. At this town I smuggled a 
letter through to Mrs. Stone. I had suffered my 
entire correspondence to be censored up to this 
date, but I was determined to get one intimate let- 
ter through, at least, or go to the guard-house in 
the attempt. 

This was my manner of procedure : First I had 



LAKE ERIE 23 

my letter ready for the mail. Next I awaited my 
turn at guard. The time arrived and I walked 
upon the platform in a military manner. The let- 
ter was stowed away in my hat. I approached a 
car repairman who happened near, told my story 
and then, when all eyes were turned I removed my 
hat; simultaneously did the repairman and the 
letter was simply and quickly bounced from one 
hat to the other. It worked, too, for later in France 
I received an acknowledgment from Mrs. Stone. 
This was my first and only smuggled letter. 

During the day we crossed the Delaware, with 
Washington in mind, and now we were nearing 
the end of our journey. Corporal Blanky was sell- 
ing his goods at reduced rates and at the last min- 
.ute was frantically disposing of an overstock. 

The quartette sang louder than ever and the red 
dust and fallen food churned and churned in 
chorus. We were glad for that last day; and two 
hours after midnight we reached our destination, 
Jersey City, New Jersey, all tired and grimy and 
thankful. 

At daybreak breakfast was served and later we 
traveled over a spur track to Merritt where we 
detrained. Details were appointed to load our bag- 
gage and ordnance property into waiting trucks 
and soon we were marching to camp. 

During our march we had visions of good things 
to eat, elaborate hot and cold shower baths and 
feather beds. And we were not totally disap- 
pointed in our visions for at noon that day we 
had "some feed." 



24 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

Camp Merritt presented a good appearance and 
not only this, one could find the conveniences of 
life therein. Showers were working overtime that 
afternoon as the boys scrubbed and chased dirt 
both in clothes and body. We remained in Camp 
Merritt, the largest concentration camp for over- 
seas troops in America, three days. In the mean- 
while we were completely equipped and properly 
booked for the next transport sailing for Europe. 



CHAPTER 7 
The Iron Hand 

The entire trip was made in true military style 
as regards discipline and the guard-house. Our 
Captain ruled his command with an iron-hand. 
Haughty, arrogant and proud and lacking in the 
finer qualities of manhood he caused much distress 
among the troops. Early in the trip Private Wool- 
aver, who had accidentally spilled a glue-pot upon 
the First Sergeant's desk, was excommunicated for 
his pains and thrown into the improvised guard- 
house under guard. The extra guard entailed extra 
work and so Woolaver and the guard joined in 
chorus and denounced the "skipper" in scathing 
terms. 

Gambling was permitted by the Captain but he 
would not allow the privates and non-coms (non- 
commissioned officers) to mingle in the games. One 
fine day the haughty one came through the train 
unexpectedly and pounced upon Corporal Honey 
and three privates who were industriously playing 
at twenty-one. Honey lost his stripes besides land- 
ing in the "whosgow" or company guard-house. I 
have never had a speck of sympathy for gamblers 
in trouble but for Honey I did. For this reason: 
He was the unlucky one. Practically every other 
member of the Battery chanced the game but dur- 
ing the illegitimate pastime all had reserved an 
eagle-eye. Honey was a good scout. 



26 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

The third day the guard-house was overflowing. 
Faulk, Fears, Kottinger and Neustead were guilty 
of poking their heads out the windows and talking 
to the girls; giving information to the enemy, the 
Captain argued. This slight infringement could 
not be forgotten by our poor big lanky good-nat- 
ured Faulk and so he suffered on patiently. 

Fears laughed and smoked his peace-pipe. And 
Kottinger, of the tribe of Izy Kazat, closed his 
large eyes and dreamed of the time when he could 
follow up the rereating Hun and reign supreme 
over a huge salvage pile. Kottinger always had a 
bargain or was willing to make one. 

Neustead was the backstop for an excellent flow 
of wrath. This he stopped in true soldier style and 
said nothing. I happened to see the performance 
— I was on guard at the time — and I noticed the 
smile that escaped from a rather whitened face 
which bordered onto a grin. 

''Shortie" Jorgensen was a problem for the 
' ' top. " " Shortie ' ' could never hold his silence and 
so one day the "top" gave an extra vigorous com- 
mand to which "Shortie" answered in boiling rage. 
He went to the guard-house, by request, nor was 
this " Shortie 's" first experience. 

"Portagee" Fonso was picked out by the doc- 
tor for violating G. O. No. 45. This short un- 
learned fellow was so much ballast in our organi- 
zation and I am ashamed to admit that some of our 
enlisting officers are without common judgment. 
This awkward little man the boys would tease in 
this manner: "No lik-a-da-ba-nan, put back-a-da- 



THE ntON HAND 27 

ba-nan, git up r-r-red." Repeated several times 
this sentence would cause Fonso to fly into a tan- 
trum. He was transferred from our moving 
"whosgow" to one more permanent in nature. We 
dropt him at Camp Merritt and I doubt if he ever 
crossed the Atlantic. 

There is a story that came through in a letter 
from Clark who remained in Camp Merritt be- 
cause the crabs would not permit of his traveling 
with us and who was later transfered to a perma- 
nent post, that this same poor ignorant Fonso was 
fined forty dollars for not obeying a corporal. Now 
Fonso always obeyed his superiors, grudgingly I'll 
admit, but the real joke of the story is that he did 
not know the difference between a non-com and a 
private. His road was a thorny one and I can see 
his future flight to his native country with stories 
of the brutal American. 

The medical corps did duty in good fashion and 
we were examined daily. But we took these exam- 
inations in a matter-of-fact way due, perhaps, to 
the numerous subjections which we had already 
undergone during our enlistment. The nude body 
has long since ceased to arouse our curiosity and 
the boys now stalk about in the same manner as 
the Australian aborigines or the South African 
Hottentot or even Adam. 

The day after our arrival at Camp Merritt we 
drew our final clothing and equipment. The Cap- 
tain had discovered that a small rip would warrant 
an exchange for a new article and so he proceeded 
to rip-rip right and left and later that afternoon 



28 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

I gazed at our salvage pile in utter disgust. Doz- 
ens of coats, trousers, shirts, shoes and working 
denims were ruined in the mad rush for something 
nice and new and "smelly." 



CHAPTER 8 

Our First March 

Sunday morning bright and early, 3 a. m., to be 
exact, our Battery was ready to march. We carried 
full packs and side arms. A sandwich stowed 
away in our mess-tins represented our future break- 
fast. 

To appreciate the five and a half mile march 
which we faced it will be necessary for the reader 
to understand something concerning our packs and 
extra avoirdupois. Each pack-carrier is normally 
supposed to weigh 60 pounds. The blanket roll 
consisted of two heavy army blankets, shelter-half, 
tent-pole, tent-pins, rope, condiment can, two suits 
of underwear, five pair of sox, one extra 0. D. 
shirt, blue denims and two towels. The small up- 
per section contained the usual set of toilet articles, 
towel, mess-tin, knife, fork and spoon. A third 
blanket was rolled and fastened over the pack in 
horse-shoe fashion. 

Add to this a small shovel, the cartridge belt, 
canteen, cup, side-arm and scabbard and the pack 
proper is complete. But we carried extra articles 
such as soap, tooth-paste and tooth brushes, books, 
chocolate and foodstuffs. This bulk and our lusty 
army rifle brought the pounds up and the scales 
down to the sum of from 75 to 100 pounds. But I 
can assure you my pack seemed to weigh 500 
pounds the second mile out. 



30 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

Captain Ironhand ordered us about in his usual 
manner, though I '11 admit he found himself a mere 
unit among the numerous Majors, Colonels, Briga- 
dier Generals and the like. 

When at last we moved out into the night our 
little Battery of 105 men was swallowed up in a 
sea of soldiers. Seven thousand men traveled the 
road that morning. At daybreak, as we were as- 
cending the first hill on our way to the Hudson 
River, we saw the marching Yanks through the 
early dawn and it seemed that all the troops under 
enlistment were marching to the river. 

Our packs soon became filled with lead, it seemed. 
and mile after mile we gritted our teeth and went 
stubbornly forward. This march was our first real 
taste of warfare and it was an excellent test for 
weakness. I later heard that a few men fell by 
the wayside. These men were sent back to camp. 
Battery B made the grade. 

At the summit of the hill we could see New York 
City in the distance across the river. The climb 
had been gradual, but once at the river we des- 
cended on a 30 deg. to 45 deg. grade and soon 
reached the waiting Ferry Katskill. Which was 
well, for our shoulders were simply raw. 

A few minutes later the crowded ferry moved 
down the Hudson passing on its way two large 
British transports camouflaged in the latest style. 
The stripes and colors presented a novel sight. 
Many boys aboard were having their initial boat 
excursion and they looked on the passing show 
with wondering eyes. At 10:30 we swung into 



OUE FIRST MARCH 31 

dock and fifteen minutes later were hailed by the 
Red Cross girls and fed. Coffee and buns ap- 
peased the pangs of hunger and a package of cig- 
arettes soothed the nerves and dulled the senses. 

While standing on the dock ready to be checked 
in an Intelligence Officer gave the troops a short 
talk. He spoke of mail conditions and urged each 
soldier to write home often; then dwelt at length 
upon the morale of soldiers; and lastly gave the 
prerequisite of every American soldier : A keen 
sense of discipline. The talk was fitting, I thought. 



CHAPTER 9 
The Embaekation 

Presently the Battery was summoned to go 
aboard. Each man passing the gang-plank was 
required to call, after hearing his surname called 
by the checking officer, his Christian name and in- 
itial. 

Battery B was assigned to G-4, one deck below 
waterline. On our canvas bunks, a few minutes 
later, we wrote several hurried letters and post- 
cards — the postcards to be mailed from New York 
upon cable advice of our safe arrival — while the 
transport was riding at anchor. The boys made a 
desperate attempt to write, but it was difficult. 
What could be said? Had not the ten months 
previous separation at the training camp been 
sufficient to wring from every heart the fullness 
of love and manhood and had not the suspense 
prior to the order to proceed over seas brought 
forth the best that man could offer in his corres- 
pondence? What was left? And what could one 
write amid the hurry and scurry of soldiers and 
sailors, the checking of quarters and all the details 
preparatory to sailing. 

So it happened that the mail-bag was filled with 
thin-looking envelopes. 

We were not aware of the time set for sailing 
and so expected to move without notice. The boys 
retired early the first evening on board for reasons 



THE EMBARKATION 33 

which the reader can plainly see and awoke early 
to find the transport still in port. Anxiously we 
w^atched the time and were eager to be off. The 
hours dragged into the late day and finally as the 
sun was fading in the western sky a long blast 
from a deep bass whistle told the story. I won- 
dered at the wisdom of advertising our departure, 
but later found that Uncle Sam had played a ruse, 
having anchored in the Sound all night and leav- 
ing for deeper waters early in the morning. 

Wild rumors spread about the boat next day 
telling of submarines waiting off the coast, but in 
these humors I was not a stock-holder. 

The voyage across the Atlantic was made in 
nine days and during those nine days many 
things both sad and comical came about. The 
biggest drawing card aboard was the colored 
band; the least was the latrine guard non-com. 

Aboard the liner there were many colored 
troops. To the blackest and most awkward colored 
lad I one day chanced a conversation. He was 
Uncle Sam's very own. Yes, sir, this lad was 
going over to lick the Boche and lick them good. 

"I'ze done gwane to jab ma bayonet clean 
thru his liver," he spoke in the singular and per- 
haps had visions of a one-man German Army 
which he intended to exterminate, no doubt. 

His colored friend, a bit brighter, broke in and 
remarked, "When de bullets come thick an' hebby 
and I'ze want a light I'ze done gwan to stick up 
ma cigarette and take one." At this juncture 
we three broke into a hearty laugh and a wider 



34 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

mouth and whiter teeth I have never seen except 
once at a Eingling Brothers' Side Show. There 
is something truly likeable about a negro and I 
defy anyone to name me a happier race of people. 
We whites can learn a great lesson in cheerfulness 
from them. 



CHAPTER 10 
On the High Sea 

A colored Regimental Band abroard gave ex- 
cellent concerts. Each member would lend him- 
self whollj'- to the harmony of his playing — lost to 
things physical — and the boys did their best to 
please their audiences. It was one of my chief 
delights to hang over the rail and watch the stately 
ship plough it course thru the water and at the 
same time listen to the music. The harmony of 
the sea and of the instruments, united in concert, 
M-as refreshing in a high degree. 

I spent many hours basking in the sunshine and 
gazing at the breakers trying to solve the mys- 
teries of the sea and I have no doubt that during 
those hours I came to understand many things. 
A person has not experienced the fullness of life 
until he has taken an ocean voyage. 

The first morning out we came up for air and 
discovered, to our surprise, that we were in con- 
voy; four big liners in all, one on our left and 
two on our right. The sight presented was a novel 
one and comforting as well. The submarine was 
uppermost in mind for we expected any moment 
to be attacked and of course we argued that four 
liners could do more damage to the "roving 
sea-wolf" than our crews could alone. 

Thru a system of signals the four transports 
would alternately change position in such fashion 



36 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

that each would lead in turn and then drop behind. 
This zig-zag affair was done to put the submarine 
commander in an embarrassing position should he 
attempt to gain accurate firing data. But for all 
the precaution and patrol made not one "sub" 
came within sight and we sailed the deep sea in 
peace. 

Number one transport on our extreme right was 
the Mt. Vernon, formerly the Prince Friedrick- 
schaffen. It was camouflaged in a most fantastic 
manner. Number two, on our immediate right, 
was the Agememnon, formerly the Princess Cecelia. 
This liner and our Amerika were painted the usual 
battleship grey. To our left was liner number 
four, an American 90-day product, the Horizaba. 
Our neighbor on the left bore some relationship to 
the zebra. 

The first morning aboard every man received 
a life belt to be worn continuously thruout the 
voyage. Then came the life-saving drill. The 
Lieutenant Commander of the Amerika was a 
short fat happy likeable fellow. He wore a num- 
ber twenty collar about the width of a shoe-string 
and beads of perspiration stood out upon his 
freckled brow as the fat rolled upon his neck. 

To place 7,000 men in their proper stations re- 
quired an elaborate program and so we drilled a 
number of times and on these occasions our fat- 
man went steaming about the upper deck waving 
his hands and calling out directions with the beads 
of perspiration fairly streaming down his cheeks. 
But we did what was told us and followed ex- 



ON THE HIGH SEA 37 

plicit instructions, and when it was all over the 
Lieutenant- Commander would be so pleased that 
he would smile from ear to ear and his small eyes 
would disappear beneath the summer sky so plump 
were his cheeks. 

Decks A and B were reserved for the officers. 
Being a private I did not taste of the extra priv- 
ileges afforded them nor did I envy the the com- 
missioned man. His path was often a thorny one 
and his responsibility great. 

I know the officers secretly envied us at times 
and I am sure they missed the spice of life. Owing 
to the caste system of the army and the absolute 
rule of a commissioned officer over the private, 
which of course is necessary in an army I admit, 
the officer never came to understand the position 
and feelings of a private in ranks. 

One day while aboard I had a very trying day 
with Captain Ironhand and to relieve my sense 
of freedom I wrote in my diary the following: 
When once more I am a free citizen I shall breathe 
deeply of the elixir or life. I repeat Patrick 
Henry, ' ' Give me liberty or give me death. ' ' And 
I warn Jones or Smith or Brown or any othei* 
man alive or dead not to encroach upon my free- 
dom after I receive my discharge papers. 

Our ship's crew was brot to a high pitch of 
excitement one day when^ in the error of exchang- 
ing signals, the Mt. Vernon took the wrong course 
and, before we could believe our eyes, came dash- 
ing madly at us. The pilot swung his steering gear 
just in time to avoid a general smash-up. As it 



38 THEU THE FIEES OF FEANCE 

was, the two liners exchanged generous portions 
of paint due to the slight impact. This was a close 
call and we breathed deeply later to recover our 
balance. 

Add to this local tragedy the five casuals among 
the colored troops en route and our hair-raising 
episodes are complete. One poor colored lad, 
probably demented, jumped over-board and was 
lost. Another was killed outright by a defeated 
gambler, and the other three died in some manner 
or other at the hands of violence. 



CHAPTER 11 
21,000 jVIeals D.vn.Y 

Feeding the men aboard was a real task and 
when you consider the 7,000 hungry soldiers, be- 
sides the crew, you will see that an absolute sys- 
tem was necessary. Each man held a ticket stating 
at which mess he was to eat, there being seven 
messes at each meal. 

The boys would form in line beginning at the 
mess-hall door. This line would extend back thru 
four or five compartments, around several stair- 
cases and then circle back upon itself. 

Each table in the dining room seated 20 men, 
10 on either side, and each table was served by a 
permanent K. P. recruited from the ranks of the 
various companies aboard. These kitchen police 
brot from the monster-kitchen a coffee pot and an 
ingenious copper hand-tray of three compartments 
filled with rations for exactly twenty men. 

The waiters, at first, tried various methods in 
serving the food. At one meal our waiter started the 
tray at number one man who helped himself and 
then passed it to number two and so on down the 
table to the far end where number ten and twenty 
faced each other. On this occasion I was number 
twenty and after the food had passed the gauntlet 
of nineteen men, why, I was just naturally out of 
luck. After this meal I shunned seat number 
twenty but as we were seated in the manner of 



40 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

our entry I once or twice afterwards landed num- 
ber twenty or its neighbor, nineteen. By this 
time, however, the waiters had improved their 
system and the awkward soldiers had learned to 
be more careful in their helping. 

There was a canteen aboard ship and of course 
the boys spent much money for cookies, candies, 
canned goods, cigarettes and cigars. The sea re- 
mained unusually calm during the entire voyage 
and so there was no sea-sickness. The mid-ocean 
air no doubt gave an added zest to the appetite 
and this was, perhaps, the reason for so much 
eating. 

There is a sad tale to relate about the canteen, 
sad for those who purchased the most. Every- 
one wanted something. So the waiting crowd 
would line up from fore to aft, one long unending 
line. This state of affairs soon produced a few 
speculators who purchased extra stock upon ar- 
riving at the canteen window and then would dis- 
pose of said stock among friends at a profit. 

"Bessie" Yourstone of our Battery arose from 
a mere "buck" private to a prominent popular 
soldier thru his business energies along these lines 
as did also our Corporal Blanky tho in a lesser 
way. No doubt his sad experience of over-stocking 
on the train was responsible. 

Our sleeping quarters were cramped tho comfort- 
able. It was always warm below and the huge 
fans supplied fresh air continuously. The bunks 
were placed in groups of twelve, two tiers and 
three high. The bottom man was blessed with two 
men directly above but the canvas was tough and 



21,000 MEALS DAILY 41 

held firmly the solid pounds of all the soldiers. 
Men who were fearless and gave little thot to 
the lurking submarine remained in their bunks 
every night and took afternoon naps, even. The 
other men clung to the open deck. The first three 
days out were pleasant, both day and night, but 
later it began to rain and when we came nearer 
to the continent the nights were real cold. But a 
few timid ones would manage to find some shelter 
on board and remain wrapped in blankets thru the 
frigid night air. 



CHAPTER 12 

A Colored Tragedy 

I am now about to relate a tragedy. At the 
port of embarkation there were many thousands 
of troops constantly in waiting for transportation. 
Tonnage was lacking and the natural result was 
an over-crowding of the ocean liners. It was 
urgent that U. S. troops proceed to France without 
delay and so each transport was crammed and 
jammed to overflowing. 

On the Amerika every white soldier was assigned 
to a permanent bunk which remained in his pos- 
session throut the trip. There was an opportunity 
to poke the articles of every day use here and 
there among the rafters and to hang packs and 
clothing upon the sides of the bunks for con- 
venience. 

Not so with the colored boys. A day and night 
shift was organized and one-half the colored troops 
remained above while the other half retired to the 
bunks. Those who took their winks during the day 
were the unfortunate ones for theirs was a hard 
road each night, especially after the third day out. 
The wind was bitter and the poor fellows huddled 
together on deck thru the long night hours as best 
they could and when at last morning would come 
they stirred about half-dead. The hard floor 
made many a kink but the boys suffered on. 



A COLORED TRAGEDY 43 

Everyone wore the life-belt day and night. The 
white soldiers were issued the jacket style, com- 
fortable, warm and of good appearance. The col- 
ored lads received the common square back-carrier 
and these awkward belts strapped upon the back 
made them appear as hunchbacks, especially if a 
greatcoat was put on over all. 

Thievery being prevalent among the colored 
boys (a racial trait, I am sorry to say) each man 
was obliged to keep an eagle eye on his posses- 
sions. And so each day the boys rolled their packs 
and carted their possessions about the deck. 

The sight was a comical one : The colored soldier 
and his sea-going trappings. Of course they played 
the canteen line and I can now vividly recall 
numerous packages of crackers, sardines, sand- 
wiches, sparkling eyes and white teeth, cigarettes, 
cigars, smoke and temporary contentment. 

They were also assigned to certain portions of 
the decks. At night the colored boy, wishing to 
find a warm spot, would crawl stealthily into a 
corridor. The guards usually caught the men 
doing this and would send them flying back to 
their board-beds, out in the freezing night. 

"Look here, soldier, you can't stay there," was 
the remark usually heard. And he couldn't stay 
here and "nowhere, nohow," and one raw-boned 
fellow was cautioned so many times he finally 
blurted out, "Where can I'se stay?" Later this 
same fellow, after repeatedly moving his pack and 
equipment about, by request, became desperate and 



44 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

threw the "whole works" overboard. He was not 
to be bothered further. 

Many instances came to hand later of equipment 
disappearing overboard. It simplified matters; 
the soldier would be rid of just so much luggage 
and Uncle Sam would supply a fresh outfit on 
arrival in France. 

The shameful discrimination shown aboard was 
undoubtedly stamped upon the consciousness of the 
colored troops and in the future will represent an 
added obstacle in the already perplexing National 
Racial Problem. 

Abe Lincoln must have looked on in shame. This 
great liberator did a noble work during his earthly 
incarnation ; let there come among us others of 
his caliber to continue a work Avhich he inaugurated 
and help us in erasing the many, many scores 
which we have piled up against our Free America. 
These human souls must receive recognition. 



CHAPTER 13 
Gambol, Gamble and Gospel 

Games were in order. One rough game named 
"hot-hand" evoked many a laugh and the merri- 
ment would be great at times. "Curly" Best was 
an expert at "hot-hand" and he was generally in 
evidence. Now the paraphernalia used in this 
game consists of ordinary paddles, or no paddles 
at all. The object is to spank a stooping soldier 
and then come quickly to an innocent position. If 
the one being spanked could point out his ad- 
versary from the surrounding crowd then he would 
be relieved from duty and the guilty culprit could 
look forward to some good healthy slaps. "Curly" 
did some husky work and, the good sport that he 
was, would take his turn if caught. 

Quoits was another game, similar to horse-shoe, 
the object being to throw a round ring over a 
distant peg. A simple game it was, tho fairly over- 
worked by those wishing to "kill" time. 

Cards and dice, the old favorites, claimed con- 
siderable attention tho it was "agin' the rules." 
The negro is generally pointed out as being a 
natural gambler, especially at dice, but many of 
our boys take to the game with as much en- 
thusiasm. This twin-vice is a National Liability. 

Four decks below over in the extreme corner, 
in the worst sort of light, would gather the 
gamblers, and a lookout. I have overheard many 
dice games which run in this fashion: 



46 THEU THE FIKES OF FEANCE 

"Shoot a half!" — the money would be quickly 
covered by a dozen or more and then the player 
would begin his game in earnest. He would shake 
the pair of dice in his closed fist, blow thereon 
and then roll them on the floor, saying, "Ah! the 
old natural!" If old natural refused to bob up 
then the number struck would be the mark and 
the player would roll the dice repeatedly until 
either his number reappeared or he "crapped" 
(meaning throwing seven, which number would 
have won had he rolled it at the initial throw). If 
four was his point to make the player would lean 
over and shout (or whisper in this instance to 
conceal the secrecy of the game) "come, little Joe," 
or "ma baby needs a new pair of shoes," or "talk 
fo yo daddy," or "dice, be nice," ad finem. 

Corporal Blanky was the biggest man of the 
game and played heavy stakes. The little "fish" 
would sometimes take him down for a hundred or 
two hundred dollars. But he knew the game only 
too well to the sorrow of the small gambler. At 
one time later he had 1500 francs in his jeans, all 
illicit money. 

Blanky 's was an odd character. Perhaps he re- 
ceived more notoriety in the Battalion than any 
other man except Mess-Sergeant Ash of Battery 
C who later at the front had a hand blown off, 
and the reader will further agree with me when 
I relate the following: 

Blanky, one fair day, sat upon deck looking out 
over the still waters. A very trifling incident, 
something I cannot now even recall, irritated him 



GAMBOL, GAMBLE AND GOSPEL 47 

and so, calmly, apparently, he reached into his 
pocket, extracted therefrom a handful of coins 
threw the whole of it overboard. He liked to make 
grandstand plays — and the coins once overboard 
he dismissed the subject from his mind. As chief 
food and tobacco vendor upon the train he no 
doubt could afford to empty the profits of his trade 
into the sea. 

"Jack" Kenner would not be outdone on this 
occasion and he, too, threw a handful of coins at 
the fishes. A strange pair. 

There were Y. M. C. A. men aboard. Some were 
white, others were colored. Let me tell you right 
here, dear reader ,that one of the best "Y" men 
I have ever met was aboard and he was colored, 
too. He was a real gentleman, another Booker T. 
Washington, and served his men faithfully, un- 
selfishly. 

Many men were bitter towards the Y. M. C. A. 
and in my conversation with hundreds of men 
aboard I discovered the same underlying complaint, 
id est, the Y. M. C. A. as a war-organizatioin was 
nothing more nor less than a huge machine built 
for profit. 

But when all is said and done there is no ques- 
tion but that the Y. M. C. A. did good work for 
the boys, tho the amount expended compared to 
the amount accomplished was out of all propor- 
tion. 

I can see a "miniature tornado" coming and 
so before I am overwhelmed with wrath from the 



48 THRU THE FIKES OF FRANCE 

peaceful lovers of things Y. M. C. A. let me pro- 
ceed with my story. 

Much can be said for the Red Cross, so much 
so that I will not linger for my pen cannot do 
justice to this great humanitarian work which 
President Wilson so nobly represents as Honorary 
President. 

While on these subjects let me say a word for 
the Salvation Army. The finest talk I have ever 
heard on the continent was in a Salvation Army 
hut. This organization has won a place in the 
heart of every soldier and I have yet to hear the 
first complaint. 

That small group of people down on the corner 
of your home town with red-tipped caps, flying 
banner and bass-drum will awake to a new life 
after the war. Irving Cobb paid these deserving 
people, followers of the immortal Booth, a lasting 
tribute and in his characteristic way wrote: "Thru 
the grease of doughnuts and by the grace of God, ' ' 
et cetera. The doughnut was a staple article in 
the huts and God was not forgotten. Rather, His 
Spirit animated the whole organization and their 
untiring services M^ere proof. T cannot say too 
much for the Salvation Army. 

On the sixth day (Sunday) I attended morning 
mass as read by a Catholic Army Chaplain, the 
Rev. Leonard. I did not understand the Latin 
words but I did enjoy the later lecture which 
was delivered in good earnest. I am not a Roman 
Catholic — my religion is the "Ancient Order of 
the 'Open Road,' " However, I appreciated the 



GAMBOL, GAMBLE AND GOSPEL 49 

efforts of this clergyman and felt that the boys 
under his care were spiritually benefited. 

I have a hearty regard for all the spiritual 
teachers representing every denomination of every 
religion, the so-called "heathen" Buddhists in- 
cluded. I think Sir Rabindranath Tagore, India's 
ideal and winner of the Nobel Prize, shattered 
much prejudice in the States during his travels 
in 1917. 



CHAPTER 14 

France 

Forty-eight hours out from the port of debarka- 
tion we were met by six submarine cruisers. The 
sight was truly a naval parade done up in the in- 
terests of the "sub" and we eagerly watched their 
tactics darting back and forth guarding the huge 
transports. They were real cute — that expresses 
it — because they were so small compared to our 
ocean-going liners, and they bobbed up and down 
on the waves like so many corks. 

This protection was an added comfort for now 
the submarine was hopelessly out-classed, thanks 
to Secretary of Navy, Mr. Daniels. 

There was great rejoicing among the troops on 
the morning of June 19th when we sighted the 
white chalky cliffs of Dover, England. In the dim, 
dim distance we strained our eyes to behold, and 
slowly the first glimpse of land hovered in sight, 
then became larger and nearer until finally we 
could see land. We then discovered that we were 
gazing on the shores of France. 

Only those who have traveled across a large 
body of water can appreciate the sensation of dis- 
covering land — dry land. The nine days on water 
were surely a long period of time, especially for 
the soldier who is usually a landlubber, otherwise 
he would have joined the Navy and sailed the seven 
seas to his heart's delight. 



FRANCE 51 

• The four big liners swung into single file just 
outside the Harbor of Brest and we were soon 
winding thru the channel. At high noon we dropt 
anchor. 

The City of Brest was eagerly scanned from our 
position. The stone buildings stood irregularly 
upon the cliffs giving a rugged effect to the city. 
I was reminded of the ancient ruins of Pompeii 
which Bulwer Lytton has so vividly depicted. 

About the harbor was every evidence of Amer- 
ican construction. A broad cement wall had been 
constructed across the channel to protect the ves- 
sels, riding at anchor, from the midnight prowling 
submarine. In this sub-harbor were numerous 
transports, submarine cruisers, auxilliary cruisers 
and darting to and fro about the bay were the 
numerous gasoline launches bearing officers or 
messengers. 

Activity was at its height. Here the products 
of war were being dropt ; . men, food, guns, can- 
non, shot and shell ; equipment for infantry, artil- 
lery, cavalry and engineers; huge Baldwin loco- 
motives, airplanes and all the accessories of war- 
fare, industry per se. 

The same afternoon a large portion of the troops 
were towed to the dock on barges. But our Bat- 
talion remained aboard and for three days and 
nights we labored industriously removing the con- 
tents of the huge liner. The first night about 
8 p. m. a detail of ten men, myself included, began 
the job of unloading the mail. Have you ever 
visited a granary and noticed the sacks of wheat 



52 THRU THE FIRES OP FRANCE 

or oats piled high? The enormous hold at the 
ship's bottom presented just such a sight. 

Millions of precious letters, filled with love, 
passed thru our hands that night. The mail sacks 
Avere relayed from the hold to a Avaiting net which 
was hoisted to the top deck and over the side by 
a wench. It was done systematically, tho noisily, 
and each net-full represented an ordinary auto 
truck load. 

We worked four hours and then were relieved 
by the next shift. Early next morning the last 
sack was carried out of the hold and from all 
accounts there were a dozen letters waiting for 
every soldier in France, besides a bundle or two. 

In another hold of the ship our boys accidentally 
shattered a box containing whisky and addrest to 
the Chief Surgeon for medical purposes. Well — 
you know what happened, naturally enough. Sev- 
eral boys nursed sick headaches the next day. 



CHAPTER 15 

A Lively Reception 

On the 22nd of June at 11 :00 o'clock our Battery 
placed foot upon French soil. We stood in com- 
pany front upon the wharf and Captain Ironhand 
pranced about in all his splendor. I had stuffed 
a magazine into my blouse leaving one end show- 
ing a trifle. This the Captain discovered — he was 
always looking for trifles — and suddenly a quick 
succession of words played in taccato time upon 
my guileless head. I threw the magazine over 
into the water. It was "Popular Mechanics." 

Ten minutes later, while standing between two 
long sheds with full pack awaiting further orders, 
several of the boys being weary sat down upon the 
ground. Others were munching away at a sand- 
wich and boiled egg. I had thrown my pack aside 
and was eating leisurely with the others when lo! 
and behold, who goes there *^ Captain Ironhand 
and his first Sergeant who is taking the names 
of several men. We were quick to note the state 
of affairs and I deftly crammed my egg and bread 
down the center hole of a roll of tar-paper thinking 
this to be the source of trouble. I was safe, I 
thot, but wait ! The reason for all the commotion 
was that orders had not been given to "unsling 
packs." My name went down and my heart went 
up and I lost my lunch in the bargain. 

Reader, take heart for Ironhand will soon leave 



54 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

the scene. This was our reception upon entering 
the sacred country of France, home of Joan of 
Arc. 

Soon we were moving along the streets of Brest 
and the children greeted us singing: "Hail, hail 
the gang's all here; What the h — do we care, 
What the h — do we care." 

The peasants w^ere not so enthusiastic. Had not 
thousands of troops preceeded us? Marching col- 
umns of khaki were now an ordinary sight in the 
streets of Brest. 

The children, having learned of the generosity 
of Americans fresh from the States, ran along 
begging for "souvenir pour papa," or "chocolat," 
"un sou," or "deux sou," or as many as one 
was inclined to give away. I possessed a few 
extra U. S. coins of small denomination and these 
I scattered over the heads of the younger folk. 

Private Yourstone, who was walking next to 
me and who had an exceptionally sweet tooth, sank 
ten degrees in hunger when I gave my last bar 
of chocolate to a little girl with rosy cheeks and 
wooden shoes. 

The custom of donating presents to the chil- 
dren soon became a distressing problem and 
months later the boys would frown upon a child- 
beggar and utter, "Al a toot sweet" — meaning to 
get away very quick. 

We mounted the village street, passed thru a 
long tunnel and later gained the upper road. As 
we marched thru the village I was beset by an 
interplay of emotions such as is impossible to de- 



A LIVELY RECEPTION 55 

scribe. The quaint French of Brest are strictly 
foreign in all that the word implies. Were the 
fancies of storybooks and childhood fiction coming 
to life? 

Around each grog-shop grouped the Frenchmen 
all wearing long black tunics, wooden shoes, 
picturesque hats and smoking long-stemmed 
pipes. 

The stone houses, all irregularly built, were sur- 
rounded by massive wall-fences. We came in mid- 
summer and all vegetation was at its best. Creep- 
ing vines covered the high walls and sweet fleur- 
de-lis poured forth its perfume on every breeze. 

Yet another emotion seemed to grip my heart 
as I turned to the Loved One at home 8,000 miles 
away. Just as the Rockies had presented the first 
great physical barrier the Atlantic now represented 
the next and I came to realize that daytime in 
France meant nighttime in the States. As we 
marched on I was one with my thots and while 
I was spinning a day-dream around The Girl an 
old verse came to mind and I repeated : 
"I pray a prayer that the Easterns do, 
May the peace of Allah abide with you." 



CHAPTER 16 

Yea, Unto Eternity 

Two miles beyond the town we came to our rest 
camp. Camp' Pontenazin by name and a product 
of Napoleonic times, ancient and awkward. Within 
the four walls of an antiquated barracks and upon 
hardwood floors we spent the first night of our 
rest period. 

Next day our hips were numb and our tempers 
hot. We remained within this camp just 24 hours 
and when we were once more marching down the 
highway we gave free vent to our feelings and 
fairly sang out into the summer day. 

This was Sunday and the French people were 
returning from church. The men wore large brim 
hats, gracefully curved upward on either side and 
with ribbons dangling in the breeze. All carts and 
wagons are of the two wheel variety in the small 
towns and country districts of France, and big 
and cumbersome they are, just so many extra 
pounds to drag around. But then the French are 
accustomed to manufacturing articles which are to 
be used by the third and fourth generations — yea, 
unto eternity. 

One incident is worth mentioning before we 
leave the scene of the rest camp. While in ranks 
upon the parade grounds my friend Sharp was 
pounced upon by Captain Ironhand and was ques- 
tioned as to the absence of the red cord upon his 



YEA, UNTO ETERNITY 57 

hat. In the shuffle Sharp had misplaced it — and 
this excuse he gave. 

"It's a poor soldier who can't find another," 
shot back the Captain, meaning, of course, to com- 
mit thievery and make another suffer. A splendid 
ethical teaching from a "leader" of men! 

On the way to the station we passed a group of 
German prisoners under guard. This was our first 
glimpse of the Boche — the hated Hun. Numerous 
smiles and glowing cheeks made it appear that they 
were contented. No longer was it their lot to enter 
active service and suffer casualty. Here at least 
they were assured a future return to their native 
land; here they received more pay, better food and 
proper shelter. 

Stories leaked thru later, when we reached the 
Front, to the effect that many Germans, learning 
that the Americans paid their prisoners good 
wages, considering, gave up in surrender and I 
believe this to be true. 

At the railway station everything was made in 
readiness for the Battalion's departure. Old-fash- 
ioned sectional coaches, first, second and third class 
ears, were placed at our disposal. Officers were 
prancing about discharging their various duties, 
checking, directing and making copious remarks 
upon dozens of sheets of paper. 

Eight men — 7 privates and 1 corporal — were 
assigned to each compartment. One squad luckily 
fell heir to a second class coach, plush seats and 
everything. Corporal Chenowith, in charge of our 
squad, was later directed to report for rations 



58 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

which he did and returned to our lair Math seven 
cans of corned-beef (canned Charley), four cans 
baked beans, four cans tomatoes, two cans jam and 
twenty packages of hard-tack; rations which were 
intended for two days' travel. 

Eight healthy physiques, army equipment and 
cans and cans of "grub" all tucked away in one 
small compartment presented a novel sight, indeed. 
Our experience crossing the States in fine Pullmans 
was now about to be placed in Class A-1. French 
rolling stock fell below par before we were two 
miles out. 

We took our "shut-eye" or naps sitting up ex- 
cept Brazie, who managed to spread out his limbs 
to his comfort and our discomfort. 

Then the food problem had to be settled but 
fortunately we had a cook in the crowd who por- 
tioned out for seven meals and served the rations 
in equal amount. "Drag" LaGrange was the name 
of this fine fellow; in fact so fine and so capable 
was he that he usually landed a good position in 
the Battery. For this reason the boys argued that 
he had a "pull," or better still, a "drag" with 
the Top Sergeant. For months I knew this boy by 
no other name. 

The following is a list of nicknames which have 
been firmly fastened to each member; nicknames 
that came about in a natural Avay as all true nick- 
names must: 

"Gopher" Ward, "Ham" Miller, "Snapper" 
Ingram, "Peg" O'Neill, "Student" Donley, 
"Feet" Faulk, "Frog" Foix, "Pigeye" Jester, 



YEA, UNTO ETERNITY 59 

"Fine Points" Lyon, "Old Man" Daniel, 
"Beany" Walker, "Bessie" Yourstone, "Rope 
Neck" Bedford, "Curly" Best, "Hay Shaker" 
Brazie, "Lieut." Herron, "Ironman" Jenifer, 
"Kike" Kottinger, "Matty" Mathews, "Lead" 
Needham, "Mother" Pelbrough, "Deacon" Pow- 
ers, "Military" Sewell, "Auk" Sterne, "Eagle 
Beack" Sundquist, "Kid" Thompson, and 
"Handy" Wiliian. All expressive, all familiar. 

The boys usually called me Stone but some ven- 
tured to call me "Stony" — and somehow, you 
know% I felt slighted. There is something inti- 
mate, something comforting in a nickname, how- 
ever ugly or grotesque. 



CHAPTER 17 

From Brest to Paris 

We departed from Brest at two in the after- 
noon and the first few hours we rather enjoyed. 
It was medicine to counteract both the twelve days 
spent on the high sea and the one night on the 
hard floor back at Napoleon's hut. 

The country all about was under cultivation and 
was "greeny" green. One thing we Americans 
could not understand : Considering the density of 
population for the small state of France we could 
not see why so many acres were taken up by 
hedges, useless hedges. But on second thot I kncAv 
the natural beauty which the hedges afforded and 
knew it satisfied the temperament of the French 
peoples. 

On a Texas farm, for instance, one finds a square 
house and a square barn, both of brilliant color; 
and as is generally the rule there is a straight 
path from the front door to the front gate. 

Now in France this is not so. On a side hill 
(France is mostly hilly) you discover a stone house, 
ancient and moss-covered. An irregular path, 
hedged and crooked, leads up to and around the 
house according to the topography of the land. As 
you approach the stone cottages you discover that 
additions have been made to these clumsy houses 
from generation to generation and it would re- 
quire no insight to see that the latest additions are 



FEOM BREST TO PARIS 61 

always "plastered" on where they most convenient- 
ly fit regardless of architecture or style. 

House and barn are one and the owner presides 
over his stock and lives with them under intimate 
circumstances. 

All the farms are pieced together much the 
same as a crazy-quilt. Wide hedges surround each 
farm and subdivide it, especially if there are 
numerous physical barriers. 

The small, quaint locomotive went dashing for- 
ward, its whistle striking high G at every blast 
and our frail coaches followed merrily along. 

All meals were taken under difficulties tho we 
did manage to get a large portion of the food into 
our wide-spreading mouths. Note the expression : 
''Hey, Shortie, grab this with your lunch hooks 
and put it behind the counter." Meaning, gentle 
reader, that we were being cautioned to firmly hold 
the food with our hands and see to it that we 
put the said food into our mouth and swallowed 
same. Expressions of this character no doubt were 
responsible for a limited vocabulary. Or was our 
limited vocabulary responsible for the expressions? 

Slang has one rival — profanity. The provincial 
soldier is profanity incarnate. And I can assure 
you that 95% (my friend Woolaver who is this 
minute sitting at a near table, claims 99%) use 
profanity. And as the coaches dashed forward 
bouncing and churning the whole of us, equipment 
and all, nothing would sooth the nerves quite so 
much as profanity and later a cigarette for good 
measure. 



62 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

Then there was another annoyance. Some 
claimed that the corned-beef was nothing more nor 
less than horse-meat, just plain ordinary dead 
horse done up with seasoning and placed in cans. 
But hunger got the best of us and later we ate 
without a whimper. 

The reader will appreciate and understand my 
position when I state that previous to entering the 
army I was a vegetarian. For four years I touched 
neither flesh, fish or fowl. My diet consisted wholly 
of fruit, vegetables, bread, dairy products, nuts, 
raisins, olives, maple sugar, honey and many other 
good wholesome foods. 

On this trip we became intimately acquainted 
with old hard-tack. Now hard-tack is just plain 
white flour. The baker makes a paste, using water, 
and when it is just the right consistency into the 
oven the tack goes and bakes and bakes; or, is 
there pressure brot to bear upon the innocent flour 
and compressed to the nth degree of Hardness? 
My gums were made tender even to a week later. 

We rolled into the outskirts of Paris about 7 :00 
p. m. on the second day. The Chicago-New York 
Limited would have made the trip in nine hours. 
One lad spied the Eiffel Tower, the tallest structure 
in the world, and we then knew that we were 
entering the metropolis of France. We were not 
informed as to our destination ; some argued we 
were going to the Front and detrain under the 
fire of the Boche guns and there go into fight- 
ing — with bayonets fixed, even. 

But all this faded with the sight of Tour Eiffel 



FROM BREST TO PARIS 63 

and we secretly harbored a desire to remain in or 
near Paris, for a while at least. Which desire was 
fulfilled for later in the evening we came to the 
end of our rough journey at Stains near St. Denis 
near Paris. 

Twenty-six days had elapsed since the day we 
left San Diego, California. We had traveled from 
the extreme southwest corner of the United States 
to Paris, a distance of 8,000 miles, or one-third the 
circumference of the earth, in the interests of war. 
The trip proved a strenuous one and when at last 
we rolled into straw bunks at two o'clock in the 
early morning we fell into a lethargic sleep. 



CHAPTER 18 
Fort de Stains 

Fort de Stains is one fort of a series which sur- 
rounds Paris. It was converted into an Anti- 
Aircraft School and Headquarters soon after the 
United States entered the war and it was here 
that our Battery went into final training, leaving 
for the Front nine weeks later. 

At a distance Fort de Stains appears to be a 
small innocent hill covered with small trees. Ap- 
proaching it upon the road that leads out of the 
small village of Stains you travel in a northwester- 
ly direction, pass a few scattered farm houses and 
then near the entrance you will find a wine-shop 
where young men purchase vin rouge and vm blanc. 
You turn a corner and follow a road cut deeply 
in the earth. One more slight turn and the front 
gate comes into sight. Looking up to the massive 
arch one reads— 1874 FORT de STAINS 1878. 

The arched tunnel is about one hundred feet in 
length and the night we entered the Fort it was 
dark, very dark, and as we streamed in thru this 
tunnel I had visions of a cliff-dweller's palace or 
an underground city where one meets with strange 
people and strange sights. 

It was a standing joke within the Battery that 
several of the boys on this occasion had really 
mistaken the deep cut road and the tunnel for 
trenches at the Front. As a matter of fact we 
were 25 miles from the Chateau-Thierry Front. 



FORT DE STAINS 65 

The boys soon discovered their mistake, however, 
and were thankful. 

After we had arrived at Paris and waited till 
darkness set in to allow for a final troop movement 
under cover of darkness, we began the last lap of 
our journey. The train switched from one track 
to another, darting this direction and that direction 
until all sense of direction was done — a jumbled 
mass. We traveled on and on and then, finally, 
at a few minutes past midnight, we came to an 
abrupt stop. Orders came to clear the cars of 
equipment, sling packs and prepare to march. 

Trucks were at hand to receive the Battery's 
ordnance and property and the usual orders were 
exchanged between the officers. It was very dark 
and only an officer w^as permitted to use a flash- 
light. In the distance we could see the flare of 
artillery fire. 

While skirting the small city of Stains we passed 
several French guards wearing helmets. The 
country seemed lifeless and not having the slight- 
est idea as to our geographical position the reader 
will understand why the boys were seemingly enter- 
ing the Front Line Trenches. 

Fort de Stains, like all other forts and cities in 
Francf, is surrounded by a moat. In olden times 
this moat, filled with water, presented a real bar- 
rier to the enemy, especially if the invader or 
Knight of Old retained his steel armor plate. 
High rock walls surround the fort and there is 
but one entrance — the hundred foot tunnel. 

The space within the walls represents about 



66 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

twenty acres. All buildings are of stone and buried 
beneath ten to twenty feet of earth. Stories were 
circulated telling of a wonderful arsenal somewhere 
within the bowels of the earth and of secret tun- 
nels leading into unknown parts, but during my 
residence at this Fort I saw nothing that would in- 
dicate an arsenal of a wonderful character. I did, 
however, discover a couple of secret passages. 

The second night at the Fort broke out in aerial 
activity and to us it was the time of a great and 
solemn initiation. Night raiders were storming 
Paris and the anti-aircraft defense guns sent out 
an ominous night cry, an alarm well known to 
Parisians. "We were tucked away in sleep, appar- 
ently, but in reality every nerve and fiber of our 
bodies was taut with phantasm for we could see 
the German war-machine rolling in on Paris — in 
our minds. 

The airmen dropt several deadly missiles on 
Paris, which we could distinguish above the din of 
anti-aircraft fire; and later retired to the German 
line. Once more all was quiet and we finally fell 
into a restless sleep. 

All thru the nine weeks at the Fort we were 
never without excitement. Several daylight raids 
were attempted under our very eyes but now the 
novelty was gone and we scarce winked an eye 
when the planes came on. Instead we would stand 
in the open fields and watch the side-show. 

Big Bertha, 74 miles away, dropt a shell two 
blocks over the way and the explosion hurled the 
earth several hundred feet in the air. It was al- 



FORT DE STAINS 67 

ways a question where the next shell would land. 
Nearly every morning she was active and we could 
count the shells at a fifteen minute interval as 
they landed within the confines of Paris. 

Later, at the Front, when we had been initiated 
into real artillery activity, we remembered the pop- 
gun warfare around Fort de Stains with a smile. 



CHAPTER 19 

Comedy and Tragedy 

Every soldier was his own laundryman and a 
wash-tub crew gathered daily around the large 
cement basin to scrub their clothing French style, 
using a brush in lieu of a wash-board. A good 
stiff brush will work wonders even in cold water. 

A bit of "elbow-grease" often transformed a 
young fellow, in fact as the days went by you 
could count several real "classy" dressers; gentle- 
men a la Uncle Sam. Additional clothes were pur- 
chased in St. Denis or Paris, also linen, silk hand- 
kerchiefs, perfume, good-looking service caps and 
special spiral leggins. Jack Renner was an ex- 
cellent type of dresser as was also Joe Kirk. 

Every morning reveille was sounded at 6 :15 and 
sleepily the men aroused themselves to don their 
military attire, after which side-arras and rifle or 
revolver completed their equipment. Out thru the 
long narrow halls the Batteries would crowd and 
then form in a company front. Every man must 
be accounted for and those who attempted to take 
a few extra winks, and miss reveille as a result, 
were punished by a week's K P or some other 
disagreeable fatigue. 

So it behooved every man to answer the detest- 
able bugle even tho he die in the attempt. One 
can easily imagine the sweet flow of epithets every 



COMED'f AND TRAGEDY 69 

morning that sounded forth from deep bass voices, 
amid "blinky" eyes. 

Breakfast vv-as served at 6 :30. Now breakfast 
or any other meal was always a source of much 
movement — quick movement and merriment. The 
quick movement was accomplished in this manner, 
the object being to be the first man in the mess- 
line: Rush from the ranks into a small hall in 
sardme-packed fashion, wiggle and squirm down 
the hall, around a corner, then into another very 
dark hall, into a small door, down a narrow aisle 
and finally, the individual's bunk reached, there 
would be, after dropping gun and side-arms and 
grabbing mess-tin, the inverse movement down the 
aisle, thru the door, down the hall, around the 
corner, down a pair of cement stairs into the 
basement and finally stop before the serving bench 
all breathless and smiles. 

This movement (it became worse as the time 
went on) was done in thirty seconds to one min- 
ute by the watch. The usual noise and racket 
was in evidence and there would be shouting such 
as, "run you mess-hounds" or ''go and get it" or 
just ordinary plain excessive guttural non-music 
and screeching and whistling. The officer in 
charge never interfered with this ceremony. 
Rather he would stand by and watch the perform- 
ance with interest and glee. 

All meals were taken upon the ground French 
fashion. With mess-pan heaping each man would 
choose a plot of ground, squat and begin the per- 
formance. It was June and July when our Bat- 



70 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

tery went into training and during those hot 
months there were many flies, yellow bees and much 
dust. 

If a careless fly would be so unfortunate as to 
slip into the soup — well, we were hungry, or we 
could not get a second helping, or the kitchen 
would be too far away, or — well, the fly would be 
rudely extracted, cursed and then we just pro- 
ceeded with our mess in an unconcerned manner. 
"We, no doubt, devoured many flies — to the sor- 
row of the fly. 

Each man washed his mess-tins in a bucket of 
soapy water supplied by the kitchen force, then 
would immerse the same tins in a bucket of clear 
water, after which each man plied his individual 
dish towel. These poor towels would soon be stiff. 

And now I have given you a hint as to the be- 
ginning of a day. All days that followed were 
alike except Sunday. On this day we were al- 
lowed to take our extra winks and no work was 
given. 

Ralph Ginn was our first representative in the 
guard-house or better, the ''whosgow." Ginn had 
forgotten himself and talked back to a Sergeant, 
but he was soon free again and sang louder than 
ever. 

Steger cooked industriously for a month and 
then one fine day disappeared from view. Three 
days passed and then a guard was sent to St. 
Denis to find him. The guard did his job in quick 
order and returned to camp with his captive. 
Steger spent the following days in the guard-house 
charged with drunkenness. 



COMEDY AND TEAGEDY 71 

Others disturbed the peace or broke the rules 
and were incarcerated. The saddest sight I saw 

while at the Fort was the case of H , a man, 

by the way, who came from another Battery. A 
Lieutenant had searched this suspected man and 
found eighty francs of another's money concealed 
in his shoe. A plain thief. 

As H sat upon a small stool in the cell he 

stared at the floor in silence. His manner seemed 
strange but I did not pay unusual attention to 
him as I walked my post. Suddenly I found him 
outstretched upon the cell cot, stiff and trembling. 
I called the medical corps Sergeant who returned 
and poured spirits of ammonia into his open mouth. 

This, he argued, would bring H to his senses. 

But it did not and the prisoner became violent. We 
held him down and the sergeant gave him the 
needle. 

H relaxed somewhat and then again grew 

stiff. More ammonia was administered and another 
needle of morphine was injected into his physical 
being. He finally dropt into a peaceful sleep, 
which was fortunate, for I am satisfied that he had 
unconsciously practiced self-hypnosis and was well 
on the road to insanity. 

According to the laws of medicine ammonia 
makes one deathly sick if not thrown from the sys- 
tem, but H awoke later as from a refreshing 

sleep. A strange case. His sentence was six 
months and two-thirds pay forfeited. 

In France the American soldier was allowed to 
purchase light wines and beer which was contrary 



72 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

to the rule in the States. The first weeks produced 
many intoxicated men from Battery B, Several 
of our boys came to grief, returning to the Fort all 
soiled, sick and francless. Others were not quite 
so indulgent and were comical to see. The sodden 
drunk is a nuisance; the light drinker is often a 
great source of enjoyment. 

"Deacon" Powers comes to mind as represent- 
ing our comical drunk. Once he returned to the 
barracks under the influence of liquor. He pro- 
ceeded to praise or condole, shout or weep with all 
whom he contacted; he laughed and cried in turn 
and performed in all manner of grotesque move- 
ments. Next morning "Dec" was none the worse 
for his experience. 

Corporal Bibby is about the happiest man 1 
know and is ten times merrier under the cup. 
He and Sergeant Miller would have some lively 
arguments for the benefit of their audiences. 

"Auk" Sterne would get "stewed" and come 
home walking on top of the world. He would 
imagine himself a supreme lord and completely 
and fully satisfied with himself and everything in 
life. 

"Pigeon" Jester wore a perpetual smile; this 
.smile became a decided grin when "pickled." 
Honey is a happy-go-lucky lad and spent several 
francs for vin rouge and vin hlanc. 

Tahar, the "terrible Turk," one fair evening 
invited me to have supper with him at a French 
tavern. I went. We had a sumptuous meal placed 
before our eyes and a bottle of choice wine as well. 



COMEDY AND TRAGEDY 73 

Now I am a teetotaler and had not touched the 
cup since my foolish boyhood days, but on this 
occasion I partook of a glass, for old time's sake, 
you know. 

Tahar and I came home that night somewhat 
"under the weather" and I remember later how 
I tapped my friend Goddard on the shoulder say- 
ing, "Your old friend stepped out tonight." After 
that day I was known as the "high-stepper," but 
soon Jimmie Adams robbed me of the beautiful 
title. 

It has oft times been said that France has been 
drunk for 200 years. Every Frenchman is a con- 
sumer of wine from the cradle to the grave. Wine 
is the National drink and replaces the pure water. 
Practically every corner store in town and along 
the highway is a grog-shop; every restaurant is 
one-half saloon. 

The average Frenchman is undersized and I have 
no doubt that the National drink is responsible. 
State prohibition in France is a wild dream, for 
the present generation, at least. 

If the boys had limited their drink to light wine 
and beer only it would have caused less trouble, but 
the crafty French bar-keepers, violating the ord- 
nance, would sell cognac, champagne and triple- 
sec to the soldiers. Our cook was a consumer of 
the last named and he usually did the drunk all 
"dressed up." His periodical sprees were always 
disasterous but he would repeat the drunken orgies 
in spite of all the advice and generous help from 
boys in the Battery. 



CHAPTER 20 
Captain Ironhand Falls 

The first days at Fort de Stains were spent in 
listening to lectures and hearing all the latest 
"dope" about modern warfare, especially that per- 
taining to airplane defense. 

Just as the enlisted personnel was receiving in- 
struction, so also were the commissioned officers and 
Captain Ironhand left our Battery to proceed to 
school at a Chateau several miles from the Fort. 
He never returned to the command of our Battery 
but on several occasions paid us visits. 

It was a month later that this poor defeated 
man — he had not made good at school — came to 
see "his boys" who happened to be training on 
the guns at the time under the command of Lieut. 
Emerick (later made Captain), 

Ironhand sat down in the field like a boy and 
Sergeant Fleck sat with him. With tears in his 
eyes he said, ' ' Fleck, practice the Golden Rule. I 
am now receiving just what I gave." About this 
time Ironhand became ill and then went to the 
hospital. He was suffering from some internal 
trouble. 

Captain Ironhand had one friend in the Battery, 
a one Mr. Private Abdullah B. Tahar. To this 
"terrible Turk" the skipper would unfold his 
troubles — and it was pitiful to see; this man who 
had played the big game; who had stalked about 
all haughty and proud. 



CAPTAIN lEONHAND FALLS 75 

'•Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also 
reap." 

Months later my friend Woolaver received a 
letter from his mother residing in Los Angeles, 
telling of a one Captain Ironhand parading osten- 
tatiously about the streets of the Angel City and 
posing as a wounded soldier— a wound from a 
bursting shell was the tale. 

And so the last day on the field, sitting with 
Sergeant Fleck, we saw this man for the last time, 
and when it was understood by the boys that Iron- 
hand would not return to torture us further we 
breathed deeply. 

But now our reward was at hand. Lieut. John 
H. Emerick had come to our rescue, and a bet- 
ter finer nobler soldier I have yet to meet. Lieut. 
Emerick was a man. His cards were face up, as 
he once told a private, and he wanted us to play 
the same game. Nothing henceforth would be sec- 
recy nor w^ould he tolerate unfair play of any 
sort. 

The nine weeks that this gentleman remained 
with the Battery as instructor were sufficient to 
re-make the entire personnel. Everyone straight- 
ened up and put his heart and soul into the work. 
Everyone played the game. To this day the men 
remember Lieut. Emerick — yes, they will always 
remember him. 

Thru the days that followed we drilled, drilled, 
drilled. Four gun crews and the range section 
soon became keen rivals and with a boisterous 
voice, yet gentle in spirit, each man would ascend 



76 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

to the mountain top and proclaim to the world the 
merits of his gun crew. Soon each crew could 
"call off" and then "post" in a snappy manner. 

Lieut. Emerick was a worker and whenever 
there was a lag in the field he would stir the men 
and fill them with enthusiasm. His short talks to 
us on "A Soldier's Duty" were taken to heart by 
the men. I shall not go into technique of anti- 
aircraft artillery here, but will cover the subject 
in an interesting way when we reach the Front. 



CHAPTER 21 

Local Travel 

Passes were allowed the second day at Fort de 
Stains. Local passes to Stains, St. Denis, La 
Bourge, Perrifeitte were issued on week days and 
Paris passes were given Saturdays and Sundays. 
Sgt. Ledgerton worked overtime on the pass list 
and, mathematician that he was, he could not 
divide ten passes, the number allowed, by a hun- 
dred. Try as he would there were always ninety 
men over. 

Now to keep ninety good husky men out of Paris 
on Saturdays and Sundays was a task. All barriers 
at the Fort even vanished under the ingenious 
schemes of American youth and soon the local 
travel became extensive. 

After drill hours it was a common sight to see 
a stream of khaki -clad men meandering off to the 
several villages surrounding the Fort. After in- 
spection on Saturday the Fort was literally de- 
serted. 

My first trip to Paris was made without a pass. 
Impatient to see the famous French city I chanced 
the trip on a scrap of paper which I called a pass, 
but which was as invalid as an American nickel in 
China. The mlitary police in Paris could make 
trouble for one without a proper pass but I was 
willing to take a long chance. On the very day 
that I was in Paris Sgt. Hisey was picked up with- 



78 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

out a pass, but he managed to bribe the M. P. and 
escaped from the clutches of the law just fifty- 
francs short. 

From Fort de Stains to Paris, via La Opera, the 
trip is made in about an hour. First is the fifteen 
minute walk to the village of Stains. Then, if 
luck is with you, you catch the double-decked 
shaky street-car. We always retired to the top 
story to see the sights, you know. In motion the 
car would swing and rock like a cradle making all 
future movements very uncertain, and we often 
looked forward to a good healthy smash-up. 

This short line runs into St. Denis in about ten 
minutes with a fare mounting up to the magnificent 
sum of one and a half pennies. At St. Denis you 
transfer to a yellow street-car, and a conductor- 
woman, dressed in black with belt, purse and com- 
bination transfer rack strapped about the waist, 
collects your fare in a very impersonal manner. 

All public utilities employed women during the 
war and the street-car was a fair example. The 
women accomplished their work and were efficient 
but a source of much interest to Americans. 

The boys always had difficulty in paying their 
fares. To escape revealing our ignorance we would 
pay in a silver coin and receive the change in cop- 
per trusting to the calculations of our woman- 
conductor. As a consequence of this practice, 
which we carried into all our business transactions, 
we usually returned to the Fort with a pocket full 
of "clankers" or coppers, five and ten centime 
pieces. 



LOCAL TRAVEL 79 

For fifteen centimes you can ride first-class to 
the gates of Paris. Towards the end of this slight 
journey our car would usually be filled and I can 
now hear our conductor-lady shouting to the wait- 
ing passengers, "complete/' pronounced com-play, 
then blow lustily upon a whistle which reminded 
us of the fish-man back home. Many times the 
Americans would cry out, ' ' fish, ' ' to the amusement 
of all aboard. 

At the city gate you descend into the depths of 
the earth to catch the underground Metropolitan, 
called Metro for convenience. About twenty min- 
utes ride brings you to La Opera or Place de la 
Concorde, the central points of Paris. The Metro 
underground of Paris is, beyond doubt, one of the 
finest systems in the world. For fifteen centimes 
one can ride second-class from one end of the city 
to the other, a distance of many miles — comfort- 
ably and quickly. 



CHAPTER 22 

A Parisian 

On my initial trip to Paris 1 met with a French- 
man who could speak English. This fine-looking 
gentleman, an ex-soldier and now manufacturer of 
French automatic machine guns, attracted to my 
American uniform, no doubt, came to my rescue as 
interpreter and assisted the street car conductor- 
woman in transacting our business interests which 
involved the huge sum of a penny and a half. 

We fell to conversation and later came up for 
air at the station La Concorde. I looked upon 
Paris for the first time on this occasion and my 
companion sought my immediate impression. I 
gazed upon the uniform buildings, the large Place 
de la Concorde with the Obelisque in the immediate 
foreground and then across the River Seine to the 
Chambres des Deputes. 

I gave my friend an enthusiastic answer which 
pleased him. He was a Parisian — he loved Paris 
and was proud of his beloved city, this I could see. 
We walked over the large square to the River Seine, 
caught a car and later come upon the Tour Eiffel. 
An improvised wooden fence surrounded the giant 
steel structure and sentries paced their beats in 
military fashion. All strangers were kept away 
and the French military authorities guarded their 
wireless station with jealous care. 

From the tower we recrossed the Seine and 



A PAEISIAN 81 

passed thru the scenic and beautiful grounds of 
the Trocadero Palace and a few minutes later came 
upon the Arc de Triomphe; then a brisk walk 
along the Champs-Elysees brot us back to the city 
proper. I was somewhat uneasy without a pass, but 
being busily engaged with an authoritative French- 
man and apparently upon serious business the 
M. P. gave me no attention. 

We talked about many things: War, politics, 
economics and foreign relationships and even ven- 
tured upon delicate ground — religion. My friend 
lauded President Wilson and gave me to under- 
stand that all France worshiped our great states- 
man. 

We paused, in our walk, to enter the Madelaine, 
the beautiful Catholic cathedral. Passing some beg- 
gars we mounted the long llight of stairs and stood 
at the entrance a moment. Within I noticed that 
my friend passed the holy water, nor did he per- 
form the usual ceremony peculiar to every devout 
Catholic. It was later that we fell to discussing 
Masonry and the ancient wisdom in its new forms. 

At length my friend invited me to his home at 
St. Denis, and to partake of a meal and meet his 
aged mother and a brother. I reluctantly accepted 
not wishing to intrude, but he insisted and argued 
that he wanted to entertain an American soldier. 
We walked down the Boulevard des Capucnes and 
later disappeared into the ground at la Opera pre- 
paratory to taking the Metro. 

A half hour later we mounted the stairs of a 
fashionable French apartment house in St. Denis. 



82 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

The mother answered a bell and was pleasantly sur- 
prised to meet an American soldier. A brother 
came forward and our circle was complete. The 
apartments were small but well appointed and 
seemed real cozy. 

We sat before the table, a bit later, and the 
mother devotedly served her two fine sons and my- 
self — she would not tolerate a servant was ex- 
plained — and we were served in several courses. 
An empty plate, knife, fork and spoons, a half -loaf 
bread, glass tumbler and napkin met my eyes. Yes, 
wine was to be served ; wine, the beverage consumed 
by the high and low alike. 

The little mother brot from a small kitchenette 
an omelet with onions. She retired and we began, 
without grace, in honor of a vigorous appetite. 
The egg and onion and French bread were keenly 
appreciated — any soldier will tell you so. 

Next we were served a thick beefsteak. Army 
rations had served to create a carniverous appetite 
and so I ate the steak and made short order of the 
bread. My friend poured wine. One glass, another 
glass; not more for the product was rare, it was 
explained, and extra fine and should not be gulped 
down but lightly sipped and lingered over. The 
steak finished we were served, again, by the untir- 
ing faithful mother-servant, cheese and more 
bread. This concluded the meal, and my appetite 
was fully appeased. 

The time was slipping and I prepared to depart 
for the Fort. The small double-decked Stains car 
stopped its service at seven and I faced a good 



A PARISIAN 83 

walk home. The boys offered to walk with me and 
so, after saying farewell and offering many, many 
thanks and merci to the fair old lady, we departed 
and swung along the boulevards of St. Denis, pass- 
ing into the country road and later reaching Stains. 

Our conversation was varied and I came to un- 
derstand many things of the French people. We 
parted in regular French fashion, kisses omitted, 
and I regained my lodging all tired and a bit 
weary. I was thankful, however, for having seen 
Paris under such splendid conditions and of gain- 
ing the acquaintance of a Parisian. 



CHAPTER 23 
Paris — the Pageant City 

The following Sunday I visited Paris again. 
This time I held a genuine piece of paper, some- 
times called a pass, which was okayed by a white- 
haired sergeant down at the army headquarters, 
Rue St. Anne near the Louvre. Many spies and 
A, W. 0. L.'s (absent without leave) paraded the 
streets of the big city ; for this reason every citizen 
and lawful visitor was required to carry his 
credentials. All day long I passed the M. P. with 
my chin in the air. 

My business having been transacted at St. Anne 
Headquarters I stood upon the street curb debat- 
ing what I should do next. I hailed a taxi and 
shouted to a red-nosed driver, "Notre Dame." We 
went sailing along the boulevards passing hun- 
dreds of taxies coming, going, crossing and dodg- 
ing people and carts alike. 

Notre Dame stands upon the banks of the River 
Seine. I refer you to "The Hunchback of Notre 
Dame"^by Victor Hugo for description. I fain 
would attempt to depict the physical features of 
this huge ancient structure. When I came upon 
the scene the war was at its height. And so for 
protection the authorities had sandbagged the 
priceless statuary about the cathedral. 

Big Bertha, the German monster 74 miles away, 
had her eyes on this sacred edifice. As far as I am 
aware the historic structure has escaped unscathed. 



PARIS— THE PAGEANT CITY 85 

I entered the sub-door and stood upon the ce- 
ment floor ainid ancient memories. It was Sun- 
day and services Avere in progress. Music filled 
the great halls and echoed and re-echoed from the 
lofty ceilings. I knelt a moment before the Allied 
flags and then joined in the curious crowd which 
promenaded to and fro about the outer halls. An 
arrangement of fences held the congregation within 
bounds and the services were conducted and con- 
tinued much the same as a performance upon a 
stage with the walking sight-seers as audience. 

Upwards to twenty priests sat in a row near the 
choir. One elevated seat was occupied by the All 
High or someone wearing a mitre and dress of 
extra color and design, and it was a novel sight to 
watch the curious peek thru the pannels at the 
whole show. It was distasteful. But I appreciated 
the music and departed later somewhat uplifted. 

Outside I hailed another taxi and this time we 
crost the Seine and stopt at the Esplanade des 
Tnvalides. Napoleon's tomb was also sandbagged. 
In a large adjacent building there were many war 
relics; German artillery of all caliber, airplanes, 
tanks and other war accessories, all being trophies 
of the Great War. 

Guynemeyer's faithful Spad was on exhibition. 
Not the plane he succumbed in, but his favorite 
machine which had served in many an air- 
battle. There were wreaths thrown over the pro- 
peller and hanging upon the wings. Guynemeyer, 
the first Ace of Aces, is almost worshiped by the 
French; his memory will live forever. In all the 



86 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

prominent photograph galleries a large-sized like- 
ness of this Ace was displayed — a mere chap, too. 

That afternoon I sat in a sidewalk cafe and in- 
voluntarily began counting the colors and combin- 
ations of the Allied Nations' soldiers who were par- 
ading in the Sunday afternoon crowds. There 
were red pants and black stripes, black pants and 
red stripes, green caps, purple caps, red caps all 
done up in gold braid. There were corset-fitting 
coats and loose coats, high boots and low boots, 
wide belts and narrow belts, fancy canes and silver 
spurs. 

There was the characteristic blue of the French, 
greenish-gray of the Italian, brilliant brown of the 
Belgium, with a tassel on the cap for ornament. 
Natives of French Algeria wore their red fezes — 
the Hindoo a turban. English, Australian, Can- 
adian and American were in khaki. 

I cannot imagine a time in the future when such 
a gathering of military peoples and color and cos- 
tume will again occur. 

Everyone drank. The characteristic sidewalk 
cafe did a booming business. It is a custom of the 
French to drop in on a sidewalk cafe and be served 
with wine or liquor. A Frenchman will sit for 
hours over a glass of wine, gazing at the passers-by 
and watching the ever ending procession of hum- 
ans. The American soldiers joined in the galaxy 
of Paris life and were served wine in quantity. 

Now wherever there is wine served you will find 
also the pretty mademoiselle; the two have been 
inseparable since the beginning of time. An Aus- 



PARIS— THE PAGEANT CITY 87 

tralian chap, Taylor by name, and I were rudely 
made aware of this fact. We walked down the 
boulevard mindful of our own business. Two 
French girls intercept our passage — they are com- 
ing down the sidewalk. We make a graceful de- 
tour but are not allowed to escape. They throw 
themselves upon us. We are abashed, at first, then 
come to on the "recoil." Wine is upon their breath 
and — " i^ous promenadef" No, we are not prepared 
to promenade and explain the reason in broken 
French. 

At the street corner one girl dropt a slipper. She 
hesitates, she attempts to replace the shoe and, not 
succeeding, curses a nearby cabman. Her dress is 
high and her temper is high and Taylor and I 
escape. 

They were young and gay and many others alike 
there were who fell upon the soldier. Down on 
Victoria street the soldier threw away beaucoup 
francs. Once in camp the boys would search their 
jeans and not finding their hard-earned money 
would turn to the pretty mademoiselle of yester- 
day and curse the vampire of today. 

The military authorities have done every thing 
possible to stamp out or minimize the social evil 
and prophylactic stations are established every- 
where to treat the unfortunate ones who fall by 
the wayside. 

There is an army aphorism : ' ' The army makes 
or breaks a man." In France where wine and 



88 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

women are in abundance this is hideously true and 
one can quite understand the fight the average 
man must make. 

The first "baptism of fire" was back at the 
training camp. 



CHAPTER 24 

Just Girls 

The first weeks at Fort de Stains found several 
of our boys well established in different family 
households about the small villages. I have one 
member of our Battery in mind, especially. A 
pretty daughter of a Perrifeitte family was the 
object of our friend's attention. The match was 
agreeable to the parents tho the daughter was not 
allowed from sight. 

Nearly every evening you could find our two 
young lovers conversing upon the front porch. No 
doubt the little girl had visions of sailing for 
America apres la guerre — a bride and happy. But, 
alas! this did not come to pass. 

When our Battery entrained for the Front many 
lonely hearts were left behind. Two pretty maid- 
ens, especially, I have in mind and it was with 
great reluctance that our American lovers gave me 
a copy of the two following letters: 

Paris, October 1, 1918. 
Dear Arthur, 

I am ennoyed, there is a long time I have not 
received novels of you. I am hoping, however, 
you are always in good health. Would you have 
left your old camp, w^ould you be on the front and 
could you not write me as often as you want, that 
will be possible, and in this case I forgive you. 



90 THEU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

But if you are a lazy boy, I shall do as you, and I 
shall not write at all. 

My friend Alice is always at Rochefort-en-Yvel- 
ines, but she must be back next week. 

In this moment at Paris we are quiet, we have 
not Gothas or Bertha. I am hoping that will be 
continue yet a long time. 

In this minute we have a very fine weather but 
it is cold, winter is approaching. 

I often think to the last afternoon we passed 
together in the beautiful park of Rochef ort ; I shall 
want to be here yet, but I am hoping I shall see 
you in a few time at Paris, for your next permis- 
sion. 

Have you received, indeed, novels of your fam- 
ily? if no your must be very ennoyed. 

Now I am going to leave you, for I am going 
to take a walk. 

I tenderly kiss you, 

Jane. 
P. S. Be quick to answer me. 

Extracts from others. 

(a) My letter will be not long today, I am 
tired, I have not sleep since two nights ; last night 
we had a terrible storm on Paris, and the night 
before yesterday the visit of German avion who 
threw shells very near our house. 

(b) P. S. Be indulgent, for, I do not know if 
you always understand the signification of my 
phrases. 



JUST GIRLS 91 

(c) This morning a German avion came on 
Paris, but he has been pursued ; I was all the same 
a little afraid. 

Paris the 5th of November, 1918. 
My dear Clarence: 

Today I have receive your little letter it has 
make me very pleasure. Sometimes I have think 
to you and asked if perhaps you are always in good 
health as I know that you were start at front in- 
deed I have no receive this morning is date of the 
15 the October. I congratulate your Battery whom 
has cost down two Germans aeroplanes and I think 
that your victory does not stop there now the 
Germans are conquered and we must the victory 
at your dear Americans came from so far for safe- 
guard our f rench ground. I have no see your friend 
Joseph and he has no write to me. How make it 
that he is no at front say me when you think come 
in leave, above all when you write come at Paris 
forgot no seeing me. 

My mother brother and my friend Madame 
Cadou adjoins to me for sent you their best friend- 
ship. 
Your little friend who think to you, 

Georgette. 
P. S. Write me quickly a long letter for say 
me if I shall see you soon. 



CHAPTER 25 

St. Denis of Old 

St. Denis was put on the local pass-list two weeks 
after our arrival at Fort de Stains. Colonel Col- 
lins, commanding officer of the Fort, was willing 
to expand the limits to accomodate the boys. He 
wanted to give them every opportunity, both for 
pleasure and education. 

Now there happened to be objectionable pleas- 
ures about the town of St. Denis, There was wine ; 
there were lewd women. So Col. Collins one eve- 
ning mounted the stump and gave the entire en- 
listed personnel under his command (600 men) an 
impromptu speech about conditions, after which 
he appealed to the better natures of the men. Told 
them they represented Free America; that they 
must uphold the sacred traditions of the country 
and present a clean manly appearance to the com- 
munity ; that they should wear their uniforms with 
pride and honor. 

The boys responded splendidly and the Colonel 
finished his timely heart to heart talk by saying, 
"When the war is over and we sail home victor- 
iously let us return to mothers, fathers, wives and 
sweethearts clean — and better men. You stand 
dismissed." The boys fairly sang out in deep reso- 
lution as each and every one raised the right hand 
in affirmation. 

So to St. Denis the boys went. It's an old city 



ST. DENIS OF OLD 93 

— very old. The public buildings are all sadly 
in need of repair. The streets are narrow and 
crooked and filthy. There is always a peculiar 
odor present, a combination of low hanging smoke 
from the numerous factories, the manure upon the 
streets, the sour liquors from the numerous saloons, 
the mixed garbage upon the sidewalks and, worst 
of all, the public street latrines. The whole of this 
makes an unaccustomed visitor nauseated. 

The various restaurants did a good soldier busi- 
ness. The French are artists of the cuisine but are 
! so slow. We sat and sat impatiently for our 
meals and then when we ordered a new obstacle 
presented itself — we could not interpret the menu. 
So we would revert to the ancient means of com- 
munication and make our wants known in hand, 
arm and shoulder signs, combined, like the French. 
Then, if not successful, we ordered des oeufs, 
pome-de-terre and cafe (eggs-potatoes-coffee) which 
we found in our French-American dictionaries. 
Most of the boys ordered des oeufs — to pronounce 
just grunt. 1 heard many grunts. 

Luckily, or otherwise, there happened to be an 
English cafe in town near the City Hall and 
across the street from the famous Notre Dame 
of St. Denis. But prices were high and our visits 
rare. After pay-day you could count many cus- 
tomers in American uniform from our Fort par- 
taking of meat and wine in quantity at this cafe 
and our good Englishman and wife were careful 
to offer their best. 

Upstairs was a large parlor with piano and easy 



94 THKU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

seats. On one occasion, with a violin under arm 
which I had purchased the same day, I came to 
dine. The Englishman, who had a good eye for 
business, pounced upon me and before I knew it 
I was "sawing" away on my fiddle while his wife 
''tickled the ivories." Steller sang on this occa- 
son. 

Sergeant Miller was there and Cook and ' ' Calam- 
ity" Donley and others of our Battery. Some one 
had treated for upon the long center table were 
many "empties" and several yet to drain. Then 
also I saw a long fancy box of Melachrinos open 
and half gone. Amid the smoke and music and 
under the influence of wine the audience — for there 
were others from the Fort present — reclined in 
the easy chairs and, with legs crost and gaze 
to the ceiling, would rattle their francs and rest 
in perfect bliss and contentment unmindful of war 
and strife. Later the meal claimed many precious 
francs and the boys would return to camp with 
visions of another spread the following pay-day. 

Across the street is the St. Denis cathedra] 
wherein lie the remains of the French royal fam- 
ily. Coronations, marriages and momentous state 
events have been performed beneath the lofty 
arched canopy of the cathedral. In hidden laby- 
rinths ret?^ the priestly paraphernalia and in the 
archieves are parchments, rare and sacred. 

A party of several soldiers was conducted thru 
the ancient structure and I enjoyed the visit per- 
haps more than on the occasion of my visit to 
Notre Dame, Paris. It was under different cir- 



ST. DENIS OF OLD 95 

curastances and we reverently held our otherwise 
noisy inquisitive ejaculations in reserve. 

On another occasion in St. Denis I met with 
our gang and we traveled en masse. Up Cat Alley 
we went cheering and stepping about. Some 
Frenchmen were celebrating the Chateau-Thierry 
victory and proceeded to make us their object of 
reverence. 

"Curly" Best was loud and lively and held con- 
verse with the women who happened to be at the 
open windows. Mathews, in a sudden outburst of 
enthusiasm, sprang upon a window and went up 
and up, hand over hand on an adjacent waterpipe. 
On a second story window he paused to "parlez 
vous Framais" with a French girl. Up and down 
the alley the townspeople were attracted and the 
crowd gathered. "Matty" remained suspended as 
if in mid-air and the sight was a novel one — a 
regular Romeo-Juliet done up in Cat Alley. The 
whole affair was done in jest and soon Mathews re- 
joined the crowd and the gang stepped forward. 

An old man put out a hand. I offered mine. 
Re kissed it. The French were wild over the 
Americans then. I hope there is still some sem- 
blance of friendship lingering within the hearts of 
the peoples at large in spite of the many, many 
flashes, unfair dealing and foul play which threat- 
en those concerned. Of course the Great Abstract 
National Friendship, which the French naturally 
must hold, will never die. Likewise with the 
American. However a combination of events have 
unfortunately made a majority of the lads bitter 
towards the French. 



96 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

Few men will return home with their earnings, 
for the French have "cleaned us out." Crafty 
grogshop keepers, especially, have profited. Then 
the women, the storekeepers and the rest, all after 
the mighty franc, plied their trade ruthlessly. 
Yes, the French early found our weakness ; our 
inability to save; our ready careless spending. 

On the other hand many misunderstandings have 
arisen between the French and the American 
soldiers. ''Dam Frog" you hear on all sides. The 
P^rench soldier is known universally as a "Frog." 
Beautiful tributes in journals and books speak of 
the Poilu but, dear reader, bear with me for I tell 
the truth, I would not profit otherwise, to the rank 
and file they were just "Frogs." 

I have never heard the more fitting name in the 
ranks, only from YMCA platforms and thru the 
lips of our chaplains. 

Human nature is much the same the world over 
and I suppose if the French had come to America 
our peoples would have played upon their pocket- 
books and our questionable women chain them 
down with the wages of sin in much the same 
manner. 

Sunday morning is a busy day in the public 
markets at St. Denis. You can purchase anything; 
things to eat, things to wear, jewelry, knick-knack 
and what-not. 

Over at a butcher's stall there are rabbits and 
chickens, filled with the breath of life. You pet 
a rabbit gently then order it slaughtered. The 
butcher takes the timid, harmless animal by the 



ST. DENIS OF OLD 97 

hind legs and then, while you watch the perform- 
ance, gives the poor dumb animal a vigorous swing, 
like crack-the-whip, and snaps its neck. He then 
hangs the quivering carcass upon a couple of pegs 
and proceeds to rip, cut and splatter blood. The 
dead flesh is soon prepared for delivery and our 
customer goes about his shopping as unconcerned 
as a Golden Oriole singing a morning song from 
the top of a fruit-laden tree. 

At the next counter you purchase fruit or dairy 
products. Then further down the crowded aisle 
are shoes for sale — leather and wooden. Cheap lace, 
perfume, scented soap, flowers for your grave at 
the cemetery and your fortune told; the whole of 
it making an interesting sight. 

There are thousands upon thousands of street 
vendors in St. Denis and Paris. They sell every- 
thing — even small bundles of wood for the fire- 
place at twenty centimes per bundle. These hand 
carts line the curbs for blocks and interfere with 
the traffic upon the already narrow streets. 

From La Bourge into Paris there is an exception- 
ally broad avenue. Upon this boulevard there can 
be found, on Sunday morning especially, the great- 
est conglomerate mass of goods and humans that 
one can imagine. Under awnings and upon the 
sidewalks you would think the world's business 
was being conducted. 



CHAPTER 26 

Eight Hundred, B. C. 

The small village of Stains is near the Fort. The 
church in this town is very old, built about eight 
hundred, B. C. Every French village, however 
small, is graced by at least one Catholic church. 

Now just across the street from the Stains' 
church is the public latrine. Customers using it 
are hidden from public gaze from about the waist 
line to the knees. In Stains the street-sweepers 
are negligent and the manure is allowed to accum- 
ulate in the streets; garbage is thrown carelessly 
about by hungry dogs and willful children; then 
the rain falls making the whole scene unsightly 
and ''smelly." 

To enter the town you must take the cobble- 
stone road. There are sidewalks here and there, 
all very narrow and irregular, so the average pedes- 
trian trails down the middle of the street. There 
is a turn here and a crook there, then a corner pro- 
jects rudely into the street making a very narrow 
passage. If you pass you find a large square just 
beyond and then almost circling back upon itself 
is another branch of the same street you started 
on. Thru hallways, arches, corridors, passages one 
is required to pass and if you are not careful you 
will unconsciously walk into the private yard of 
your neighbor. 

The French are erratic builders. The geography 



EIGHT HUNDRED, B. C. 

of all the French towns is always a puzzle and 
their houses are impossible. One would imagine 
that a cyclone had recently passed leaving the once 
orderly and well placed houses a jumbled mass. 
You never know just where the entrance is; wheth- 
er it leads into a barn, an open lot or into the 
neighboring street. 

One store will dispense goods in the front half; 
another in the rear. Often I have bolted right into 
a peaceful family gathering at meal time. The 
proprietor waves his family aside, usually, and 
comes to serve you and sometimes you will notice 
a chicken strutting about the kitchen hard by. 
There is a barn-yard odor, too, but you buy and 
then leave, thankful for having gained the free 
air once more. 

Now every French village is alike — all crooked 
and dilapidated and odoriferously foul, with a 
single church tower well in evidence. Paris and 
the large cities are modern in their stores, business 
and administration and I would not have the 
reader be confused in my remarks. 

The people of the country are the direct anti- 
theses of the Parisians. In Paris you find the 
world's fashions; in the country, no fashions at 
all. The women are apparently very careless and 
in the morning, before they dress to go out, they 
are sloven and unkempt. 

I have in mind the village of Ecruves, near Toul. 
Here you see village life at its worst. There is a 
common pump and trough where the villagers come 
to do their laundrv or draw water for household 



100 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

purposes ; where horses come to drink and children 
splash and play. 

One day I observed an unusual gathering at this 
village trough. Five women were doing their 
laundry ; two horses came to drink ; a butcher, hard 
by, came for water using a bucket stained with 
fresh blood ; a soldier, who had been shaving near 
by, came to wash away the soap and hair from his 
shaving outfit. Without interruption the five 
women continued to laundry. 

The women were poorly yet abundantly dressed. 
One lady of extra weight seemed to be boss of the 
gang. She always stood nearby or was blocking 
the middle of the street. Her shoes were wooden 
and her head may have been of the same material, 
or empty for it made considerable noise. A string 
from button-hole to button supported her dress 
and I fain would look when she stooped, which she 
never did. Her nose was red, her cheeks flabby 
and an ugly tooth hung suspended from an other- 
wise toothless mouth. 

Her children — I take it that they were as she 
ordered them about — answered the call of nature 
in the public street just as unconcerned as you 
please. Nearby at a triangular corner there was a 
manure pile and the street seemed not to have been 
swept since the days of Noah, or thereabouts. 



CHAPTER 27 
Final Preparations 

At last the day came. The order to proceed to 
the Front was soon relayed thru our whole Bat- 
talion—to the Front. A certain joy animated the 
ranks and we were glad to be on our way. Had 
not we been in training for more than a year? 
And did not we dream and dream day after day of 
the final move which would put us into the fight- 
ing line? 

The boys set their jaws, held a firm lip and 
looked resolutely into the future. I did not notice 
one iota of unmanly cowardice among them, rather 
the boys were true to their calling, they were 
Uncle Sam's soldiers. 

Our nine weeks final training under the mas- 
terly guidance of Lieut. Emerick had done won- 
ders for us. Battery B was his pride and when at 
last it became certain that the Lieutenant would 
not accompany the Battery to the Front he was 
heart-broken. It was on Saturday that he gave us 
a final inspection. This man faced each soldier 
in the ranks, while inspecting, and sought our eyes. 
He gazed into our souls ; he asked that we look him 
squarely in the eye. What had we to be ashamed 
of? And were we not men? So we met his gaze 
— a serene and steadfast gaze — and it was refresh- 
ing. 

Immediately after inspection Lieut. Emerick 
asked that we gather together in the barracks so 



102 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

that he might deliver a few farewell remarks. We 
gathered; he stood before us. There was a pro- 
found silence and we noticed that the Lieutenant 
was gazing at the floor and lightly tapping his 
pencil on a nearby bunk. A tear stole into his eye ; 
he made an effort to speak but could not. His 
heart was full and he wanted to give us all, he 
wanted to share with us his innermost thots. We 
gulped, we breathed lightly and then, in the midst 
of overpowering emotions, our beloved Lieutenant, 
unable to hold out longer, made his way thru the 
throng without uttering a word. 

Later we learned that he had thrown himself 
upon his bunk and had wept till his heart was 
fairly shattered. Yes, reader, he was a soldier; 
he would have gone into the jaws of death if needs 
be for us and his country. This he would have 
done and because he possessed the finer qualities 
of manhood he would have sacrificed all without 
thot of self. 

Corporal Blanky, who, among other things, was 
a poet, composed the following ode, a lyric song 
that played upon the heart-strings of every man, 
rough and ready tho he may have been : 

The boys of Battery B are sad 

Because they've lost a friend; 
One who knows the part a man must play 

And plays it to the end. 
Lieutenant Emerick is his name, 

A name we proudly scan; 
The reason we're so proud of him 

Is because — he is a man. 



FINAL PREPAEATION 103 

But some day he'll return to us 

To lead us in the fray, 
And our best wishes go with him 

In remembrance while he's away. 
Tho we do our best, 

We cannot give one-half the credit due; 
We can only say in our poor way, 

The Battery's proud of YOU. 

Lieutenant Clair A. P. Duffie (later Captain) 
was assigned to our Battery as commander. We 
were sorry to loose our friend, but were willing to 
pull together with our new leader whom we soon 
found to be one with us. He was rough and ready, 
had seen service at the Front and was altogether 
worth trusting. Lieut. Emerick was a teacher as 
well as a leader of men and, with an excellent 
bearing, could emphasize his remarks with decided 
firmness. Lieut. Duffie had his ideas of the game 
well enough, but he found it necessary to revert 
to slang and not altogether fitting expressions. 
However many of our boys felt at home under the 
new "management" and settled down to happy 
thots of "gettin' by." 

On September 4th we departed from our old 
stamping grounds. As we paraded out thru the 
100 foot tunnel we felt a new emotion and 
realized that we were on the last lap of our jour- 
ney. 

We carried the full pack with one new addition : 
the gas mask. Each individual had been issued a 
mask and we had spent many hours in gas drill. 



104 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

Our lusty army Springfield was well oiled and 
ready for business. Hob-nailed clumsy shoes re- 
placed the familiar russet and we now wore the 
overseas service cap, otherwise our costume was 
the same as when we left the states. 

The Battalion marched out thru the indented 
road, past the vin rouge shop and then, after skirt- 
ing the small city of Stains, finally reached the 
railroad station of Perrifeitte. Our backs were 
sorely exercised on this occasion and we were happy 
when the march was over. French people cheered 
us on our way and children ran beside our ad- 
vancing columns begging for souvenirs and choco- 
late. 

The Perrifeitte station was crowded with re- 
turning commuters from Paris for it was now 
the end of a working day, and as we stood at rest 
nearby awaiting further orders our thots wandered 
home across the Atlantic. 

The sun remained upon the horizon a moment 
and then disappeared. Darkness quickly settled 
upon the village and we saw the home-like gleam- 
ing of a hundred lamps. It seemed that home was 
near. We could almost reach out and touch our 
loved ones who were patiently waiting in dear 
old California. 

" O ! mate, ! friend won 't you come and whis- 
per to me? Won't you give me a word of cour- 
age? Won't you help curb this home-sickness?" 

It was the some-like spirit of the returning 
workers that started these thots, perhaps, or was 
it the suspense prior to arriving on the Front, or 



FINAL PREPAEATION 105 

both? The mingled emotions of many men shone 
upon their countenances which were accentuated in 
the purple rays of a dying sun. In the twilight 
of the fleeting day our men came to know them- 
selves as never before. 

The villagers stood about in groups. Perhaps 
the instinct of self-preservation prompted them to 
cling to each other. The war-like spirit was in the 
air. Hundreds of khaki-clad youths, armed to the 
teeth, greeted their wondering gaze at every turn. 
Thundering motor-cars carrying provisions and 
supplies came and went. Officers were shouting 
orders to their men. Soon we would be gone, these 
hundreds of men and dozens of gasoline monsters. 
Soon there would return a quiet village atmosphere 
and beside every fireplace our French brethren 
would converse in future terms of American brav- 
ery and American victory. This we could see in 
the quivering voices of men and women as they 
attempted to cheer us and encourage us in the 
task of a near future. 

A touch of agony flitted across the brow of a 
widow, nearby, as she stood with her hands clasped 
upon her breast. Would these men of America 
face the Hun and drive him back in defeat and 
disorder that this widow might be avenged ? Would 
that she could see the hand-writing on the wall and 
know that her husband had not died in vain. 

Darkness crept over the land. A bugle call re- 
sounded thru the evening shadows and quickly 
the men came to attention. Orders came to entrain 
immediately. The long freight train in the yards 
received its human baggage. 



106 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

This was our first experience in freight-cars. 
Upon the dors of these box-cars was stenciled the 
following: 40 Hommes — 8 Chevaux. "Sidedoor 
Pullmans," the boys quickly nicknamed the cars. 
Thirty-four men were packed into a very small 
space which had recently been evacuated by eight 
horses. This we knew by the evidence left behind. 

Sergeant Daniels ordered the car swept and 
cleaned in the best manner possible. This done 
our packs were arranged upon the floor for beds, 
and the provisions of hardtack and corned-beef 
were stacked in one end of the car. 

French box-cars are small ; about twenty feet in 
length and half the size of our modern cars. With- 
in this small space "Pop" Daniels placed his men 
and that night our sleep was interrupted repeated- 
ly by careless sleepers, especially "Curly" Best 
who stretched out his long legs and snored with 
extra vigor. Once settled the men could not move 
for every inch of space was occupied. 

My position was an extremely awkward one ; my 
helmet gouged my back and "Mother" Pelbrough 
insisted on placing his feet in my face. Few winks 
did I steal that night and as the train rolled along 
at a snail 's pace I had many hours of wakefulness. 

It was during the night hours such as these that 
the Dear One in America occupied my mind. That 
night I thot long and hard of the Patient One at 
home and my heart fairly ached at times in home- 
sickness. And yet we were bound for the Front. 
We were on an errand that required strength and 
cheerfulness and fortitude. 



CHAPTER 28 
We Crawl Up To The Front 

Our troop train departed from Perrifeitte on 
September 4th at 8 p. m. We traveled the two 
following days thru Coulommiers, Vitry, St. Dizier, 
Poissons, Sorey and arrived at Toul on the after- 
noon of the 6th, a distance of two hundred miles. 
At Vitry we saw the first evidence of the battle- 
field. It was at this point, on the River Marne, 
that the Allies drove the Hun hordes back in that 
historic second battle of the Marne. 

Graves were scattered here and there and 
Vv^recked buildings in the village nearby were silent 
proof of war and destruction. Large ten, twelve 
and sixteen-inch cannon of the railroad type 
greeted our gaze on every hand. At this point 
there were numerous war-time activities in troop 
and food transportation, warehouses under con- 
struction as well as important aerial and balloon 
hangars; all of which dotted the landscape pro- 
fusely. 

The first morning aboard the freight train found 
us up early and stirring about. Helmets, guns, 
bayonets and other metallic mattresses, extra feet, 
"pushing and cursing were sufficient reasons to make 
a beauty sleep objectionable. So we replaced our 
shoes and stacked our packs in either end of the 
car leaving the center space free for walking and 
general exercise of mouth and limb. 



108 THEU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

Breakfast consisted of oorned-beef and hard-tack 
which was taken under difficulties as the quaint 
French rolling stock went bouncing forward. Two 
days and two nights were quite enough to prepare 
us for initiation into the * * Ancient Order of Hobo. ' ' 
At the end of our journey we were thoro-going 
bums. Our clothes had remained upon our backs 
thruout the trip, our beards were shaggy, our hair 
unkempt, in fact water had not been touched by 
many except to drink. 

After passing thru many miles of uninteresting 
territory we at last reached the railroad terminus 
at Toul. Lieut. Duffie ordered his company to va- 
cate the cars which we did without regrets. While 
waiting for further orders the clouds gathered, 
the rain came and then, to avoid a good drenching, 
everyone found shelter in the cars we had so lately 
deserted. It continued to rain, tho in a lesser de- 
gree, thruout the afternoon. In this rain we fin- 
ally assembled and then marched two miles to our 
French barracks for the night. 

Thru the village streets we swung, passed the 
city gate, mounted an ascending roadway, skirted 
several large rain puddles and finally, after much 
labor and fatigue, we reached our quarters where 
we remained one night. Everyone prepared a bunk 
in the semi-darkness. Owing to the German night- 
raiders, who had recently made trouble for the 
residents of Toul, all lights were taboo. 

The cooks prepared a scant supper which we 
ate with relish because it was hot and later all 
turned in for the night, tired and sleepy, and were 



WE CEAWL UP TO THE FRONT 109 

soon lost to the material world. Next morning 
the sun carae forth in all its splendor which was 
well for it gave us an opportunity to wash a few 
pieces of clothing. Then we shaved and later re- 
rolled our packs making ready for orders to pro- 
ceed on our journey. 

During the day the boys were informed that a 
final troop movement would probably take place 
soon and sure enough in the afternoon word was 
passed that trucks would be on hand to take our 
Battalion up to the Front that very evening. The 
boys were elated. They sang. I can now see the 
fellows gathered around the quartette of Ginn, 
Ingram, Fleck and Steiler singing to their heart's 
content. 

What a contrast the present moment was to 
that of yesterday when the boys had dragged them- 
selves thru the rain all tired and wet and home- 
sick. Long before the time of departure everyone 
Avas ready. Packs had been made over and dispen- 
able articles were discarded. We now learned to 
carry only essentials. 

At four supper was served and it was good 
"eats," considering. A detail was called after- 
wards to pack up the stoves and cooking utensils. 
Other details were made up from the Battery to 
handle baggage, supplies and to police the barracks 
later. This was done thoroly as was always our 
Lieutenant's wonted custom and it gained for us 
a reputation of cleanliness. No matter how dis- 
orderly and filthy a place might have been we al- 
ways left it spick and span, tho the boys oft 
times did their work grudgingly, I'll admit. 



110 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

At six o'clock the trucks arrived manned by 
Frenchmen. It was the Black Cat Squad, I be- 
lieve, for on each motor-truck was painted the 
emblem of the quad, that of a black cat with curved 
back and erect tail as tho a dog were nearby ready 
to spring into action. Twenty men were assigned 
to each truck, including packs, and it was sardine- 
packed affair, to say the least. Our goal had, up 
to the present, been a mystery. 

Lieutenant Duffie called the sergeants together 
and whispered the word — Ansauville. They, in 
turn, passed the coveted word along the ranks. 
We were given the location in the event of our be- 
ing scattered by shell-fire, truck accident or other- 
wise. 

At dusk we crawled out of the five acre drill 
grounds that encircles the barracks, pointed our 
noses in a northerly direction and cautiously yet 
with dashing thunder rolled thru the little village 
of Toul and later were winding thru the slight hills 
of the back country. Into the crucible of war we 
were going. Every turn of the wheel brot us 
nearer. The boys were firm and brave and I heard 
no complaints. 

On the road we passed marching columns of 
artillery. The rattle of chains and of horses' hoofs 
upon the highway, intermingled with the roaring 
engine of our Quad trucks brot a strange admix- 
ture of emotions. Not a light was allowed in the 
ranks, such as the striking of matches. The driv- 
ers flashed their headlights occasionally for proper 
guidance and to avoid a general smash-up at a 



WE CRAWL UP TO THE FRONT 111 

dangerous curve. But they were cutious and later 
the roads were camouflaged in the exposed heights 
which was some measure of protection from enemy 
eyes. 

There was a general shouting from the trailing 
cannoneers and horsemen who trudged along with 
their artillery. "What outfit?" — comes ringing in 
my ears to this day. We were cautioned not to 
impart military secrets, especially that pertaining 
to troop movements. In reply the boys answered 
"YMCA emplacements," "coffee coolers," "23rd 
Infantry" and all sortsi of nonsense. 

While in motion we clung to our equipment and 
rifle. Our cartridge belts were loaded to over- 
flowing and were ready for any emergency. We 
knew not our final disposition, whether we would 
be called upon to assist our brother infantryman 
or settle in a prepared gun-pit ; whether we would 
face immediate battle or engage in guard duty near 
the front lines. All this was mere speculation 
and our own judgment was our only authority. 
Long since had we learned to discount all rumors 
and to live by the watch, to test each report in 
the laboratory of finer senses — intuition. Even 
Lieut. Duffie was ignorant of his future movements 
beyond Ansauville. 

At 11 :30 p. ra. our trucks slipped into the small 
village street and stopped. All was rigid black- 
ness and we could hear much activity about us 
tho our eyes were blinded. The surroundings were 
strange, the people were strange and we seemed 
strange to one another. Under trying emotions and 



112 THEU THE FIEES OF FKANCE 

amid a myriad of visions we came to a strange 
cross-road in life. Were we dreaming? Was our 
position on the Front real? And, were we really 
on the Front? 

True we could not see beyond the length of our 
arm the darkness was so heavy, but we could hear 
much. For instance there were intermittent peels 
of thunder yonder ; illuminated patches in the night 
sky appeared, then disappeared; narrow gauge 
railroading was very near at hand; trucks were 
coming and going. Was it a dream? 

Our Lieutenant was quick to find a location. In 
a huge hayloft we crawled that night and, after 
very little preparation, dug in and went to sleep. 



CHAPTER 29 

Front Line Sport 

Next morning we were aroused by the pangs of 
hunger and awoke to a hot steaming breakfast. 
Cook Steger and staff had, early that morning, set 
up an improvised kitchen and already rations of 
food were ready to serve. Crisp bacon, biscuits and 
jelly, rice and coffee "hit the spot." 

Already our busy news agents were afield gath- 
ering in a rich harvest of facts and fancies. Rear 
brot back some real head-liners. Best, Jester, Gu- 
lick, Crumrine and Chase all contributed to the 
central information and gossip bureau. 

Steel helmets and gas-masks were our best friends 
now and the boys were unduly careful with these 
priceless articles, especially the gas-mask. A gas- 
shell might have exploded at any moment for Fritz 
was just over the way ready to send a shell into 
the least sign of activity. 

Our Battery was now separated from the Bat- 
talion and in the two months that followed on the 
Front we worked independently of companies A, 
C, D and Headquarters. Bits of news came to us 
during the two months but we knew very little 
of each other in an intimate way. 

The small village of Ansauville was in ruins. 
Wicked shells from German guns had wrought 
death and destruction many months before our ar- 
rival. The only church was partially in ruins, one 



114 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

shell having penetrated and destroyed the clock 
tower. In spite of the wanton destruction several 
families lived on in their miserable surroundings. 
In fact the very premises our Lieutenant decided 
to occupy was still in possession of its owner, an 
old gray-haired lady. 

But a final warning from General Headquarters 
urged all citizens to retire to the rear immediately 
and so our old lady prepared to leave. She was 
all alone. Where her husband was or her sons and 
daughters, no one knew. All we could see was a 
pathetic figure roaming about the premises looking 
blankly at the strange works of man. 

Our kitchen force took possession of the old 
lady's kitchen and transformed the old-fashioned 
fireplace into a modern field-range. Then the rab- 
bit pens and chicken coops were removed from the 
adjoining room together with a debris of long 
standing and of special odor. 

The French have a great amplitude for accom- 
modating their domestic friends within the four 
walls of their habitats. In the next room our 
friend Mr. Pig was at home and next came Mr. 
Horse or horses. Above was the hayloft. So with 
our kitchen duly installed and a good soft bed 
with a roof over all we settled down to a real home- 
life together. 

And we were at home 'neath the balmy summer 
sky of France. During the day the boys were 
unmindful of Fritzie who was on the lookout just 
two and a half miles beyond the village. Fuller, 
even whistled capriciously thru the soft afternoon 



FEONT LINE SPORT 115 

beneath the shade of a friendly eucalyptus. He 
should worry about coming events; this was his 
attitude, which was well for it afforded us a valu- 
able lesson in faith and a grounded trust in the 
powers that be. 

September 8-9-10-11 passed rapidly. During 
these days we saw much evidence that led us to 
believe a pending battle was near. So balanced 
were our forces, it seemed, that the slightest pre- 
text would have precipitated a herculean cyclone 
with power that naught could stay. Ammunition 
dumps were filled to overflowing; the last rails of 
a broad-gauge railway system were being rushed 
into position to admit the large calibered naval 
guns which were now far in the rear; small artil- 
lery covered the Front and in some places were 
wheel to wheel for miles; signal corps men were 
stringing their final connections; and the first-aid 
stations were being erected and equipped and am- 
bulance corps men were working night and day to 
prepare for coming events. 

Other than a short drill period on a nearby 
French Seventy-Five each day, our duties were few. 
There were no outside formations and we were 
cautioned to remain under shelter wherever pos- 
sible. Paradoxical as it may seem, we were on a 
vacation. In the hayloft the boys took their daily 
forty winks. Three good meals a day were served. 
No reveille, no retreat, no formations. In fact the 
time was our own. What a change from the rigid 
rules back at the training camp. We were ex- 
pected to keep in close proximity, however, to an- 
swer an unexpected call. 



116 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

During the first day we acquainted ourselves 
with the general topography of the land and the 
geographical centers. We discovered, among other 
things, that our front line was only six kilometers 
away to the north. But we were inquisitive and 
would stand for hours upon an elevated spot 
straining every muscle trying to see Fritzie. We 
could see the demarkation in the lines; curling 
smoke on a mountain yonder; enemy observation 
balloons and scouting airplanes. 

Great excitement pervaded our ranks the first 
morning when it was discovered that an aerial 
battle was in progress. A German Fokker, darting 
between the white puffs of anti-aircraft fire, at- 
tempted to burn our nearby balloon when he was 
attacked by an American flying a Spad. At this 
point three German planes came to the rescue as 
did also three American planes. The general me- 
lee was characteristic of a parlor aquarium scene, 
the planes diving in the air much the same as gold- 
fish in water. So close were the contestants to each 
other that it seemed they would all fall in a general 
collision. Darting in and out, looping, side-slip- 
ping, nose-diving amid the rat-tat-tat of machine 
guns made the whole spectacle thrilling to a high 
degree. The boys called it "sport." 

From our point of vantage we could plainly see 
the struggle. A plane is seen to side-slip, turn into 
a tail-spin never to right itself again. At sight of 
their falling comrade the planes separated and 
darted to their respective lines. The boys were 
divided in their opinion as to who fell, German 
or American. 



FEONT LINE SPORT 117 

This was our first lesson in real aerial work. 
Later in the day our nearest observation balloon 
was sent earthward in flames by an attacking 
Boche. The observer jumped in the nick of time 
for the burning gas-bag fell within a few feet of 
the frail silken parachute in its downward flight. 
"Wasn't this the height of sport?" Kid Thomp- 
son inquired. 

So all thru the day the enemy made attempts to 
pierce the eyes of the army — the observation bal- 
loons and scouting planes — and it is not revealing 
a secret to state that the Americans believed in 
reciprocity. 

Next day it rained and continued to do so thru 
the 9th 10th and 11th. The climatic condition was 
excellent camouflage for final preparations. Amid 
great activity, yet inactive within our own Battery, 
we lived, moved and had our being. 



CHAPTER 30 

Battle of St. Mihiel 

The pictorial panorama of the impending battle 
at length passed in review. On the eve of battle 
we were cautioned to retire fully dressed and a 
strange foreboding gripped our souls as we fell 
into a restless slumber. 

At a late hour the rain had ceased falling and 
now thru an occasional rift in the fleeting clouds 
the stars shone in all their brilliance. It would 
seem that mighty Providence had entered into 
partnership with the Commanding General, repres- 
sing the elements and making ready the way for 
the first all-American drive and victory. 

In the hayloft all was peace. The men were 
apparently in deep slumber when, at the stroke 
of one, the flood-gates of hell opened and every man 
sprang to his feet in unison. The combined thun- 
der of artillery fire — the greatest concentration of 
fire the world has ever witnessed — shook the found- 
ations of the earth. It seemed that the combined 
volcanic and earthquake disturbances since the 
time of Adam had simultaneously reincarnated for 
the express purpose of making a massed attack 
upon mankind. 

"As you were," shouted Sergeant Fleck, "await 
further orders." The command was necessary to 
avoid confusion in the ranks. We searched in the 
hay for our caps and coats. The night before these 



BATTLE OF ST. MIHIEL 119 

articles had been neatly placed, but in our embar- 
rassment we could not think where. Coherent 
reasoning was gone. 

BANG — a shell exploded near the entrance of 
our barnhouse, it seemed. BANG, BANG— two 
ripping shells tore the air in quick succession. The 
noise was intense. In another moment Sgt. Fleck 
shouted, "Proceed to dugouts!" Above the noise 
little Bortolotto cried out pitifully, "Sgt. Fleck! 
0, Sgt. Fleck ! " He was allowed to follow the ser- 
geant first and we all silently and quickly filed 
out of the door and made straightway for the dug- 
outs. 

Our travel from the barn-door to the dugout, 
or abri, was swift. Out over the landscape many 
gruesome objects could be seen in the flash of artil- 
lery fire. We stumbled into the ahri and, as Sgt. 
Fleck called the roll of number one gun-crew, our 
teeth chattered and knees shook. Try as we did to 
master our emotions we could not stay the im- 
petuous movement of jaw and limb. "Scribby" 
cracked a joke and we all laughed. It helped us 
to recover and find our bearings. We listened to 
the screaming shells without and studied the inter- 
fluent of crash and whistle. 

The guns roared. They sang, they cursed. They 
filled the air with such a deafening and discord- 
ant salvo as soldiers seldom have heard since the 
world began. 

The abri was damp and water was trickling into 
a pool in the corner. We were tempted to quench 
our parched throats but our crowded condition 



120 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

would not permit of movement. Perhaps we needed 
a lesson in dynamics, at this point, to help stay 
our oscillating knees. Ten minutes passed. We 
regained our equilibrium somewhat. 

Lieut. Duffie came to our dugout and asked if 
all was well. We marveled at his bravery and 
wondered why he exposed himself unnecessarily. 
Another ten minutes went by. Again the Lieu- 
tenant came. This time he brot glad tidings. 
"Not a shell is coming our way," he said, "and 
from all reports Fritzie is on the run." 

Now that was strange. Did not a shell fall in 
our midst while we were in transit from barn to 
a&n? And did we not see many gruesome sights 
en route? True, it required some 30 seconds to 
make the dash but we were certain of our ob- 
servations. 

Out into the flash-light of cannon the men ven- 
tured. Our knees were no longer in motion. We 
could speak to one another more calmly. Directly 
behind our dugout was a gun emplacement and the 
cannoneers worked over-time. It was the report of 
this gun that made us certain that shells were 
bursting in our midst. 

The noise was terriffic but the boys argued that 
greater noise was possible. We glanced up and 
down the front lines and noted the iridescent flash 
of artillery fire. Intermittent darkness would settle 
down upon the lines, but only for an instant, for 
the momentary lull seemed to stir the illusive 
salamander into greater activity, and flash and fire, 
pouring forth, Avould drench the landscape in 



BATTLE or ST. MIHIEL 121 

brilliant light, making every nook and corner 
visible. 

Star shells, descending from on high, scattered 
incandescent white-light upon the battlefield. Its 
shimmering afterglow would blend into the reddish 
flash of artillery fire. 

And so the fire continued for hours. Later came 
the steady synchronized harmonized barrage and 
drum-fire, a multitude of cannon firing as if a 
single hand were in control. The drum-fire was 
a prelude to Chopin's funeral march — this the 
Hun knew and so the spasmodic signals of white- 
light from the German lines suddenly changed in 
hue. Instead of the inquisitive flares came colored 
rockets and star-shells, the lights that call for help. 
They are a cry in the night, a distress signal, a 
fireworks that only the German signal corps can 
comprehend. 

Number one gun-crew, in charge of Sgt. Fleck, 
was ordered to prepare for action. The crew 
crawled up to an advanced position recently in 
charge of a French anti-aircraft battery, planted 
an out-post, wired the position, established com- 
munication with the gun-pit and prepared for 
action. At daybreak it was certain that the Boche 
would make attempts at aerial observation and 
possibly day-bombing. 

The balance of the company was ordered to 
stand by. It was a well known fact that in the 
event of frustration and threatened counter attack 
we would be ordered to assist the Infantry. 

The first excitement was now over. Fleck's crew 



122 THEU TJiB FIEES OF FEANCE 

was off to duty and the remaining boys of the 
Battery were either abed or in a nearby field. I 
walked guard from 2 to 4 and as I paced the 
narrow path in measured beat my thots drifted 
back to California. The constant outward thunder 
produced a strange inward silence and I was one 
with my thots. I wondered at the peace and quiet 
of Southern California and asked if some future 
time would find our Battery home again with our 
dear ones. 

A thousand fancies betook my fervent brain as 
I wandered back into childhood, youth, manhood 
and then into the first days of the war. I re- 
traced the old days at the training camp and called 
to mind the anxious and impatient moments when 
the boys shouted. "Lead me to them!" Or 
"Bring on the Germans!" Now it was true — we 
were on the Front and, at this moment, in the 
very center of the world's greatest artillery activ- 
ity.' 

Giant naval railroad artillery broke the monotony 
of French Seventy Fives. With a howling twang 
amid peals of thunder these monster rifles hurled 
enormous projectiles into space. Death and de- 
struction lay in the wake of every shell. The near- 
est railroad battery was located a fourth of a mile 
to our left. Its forward lunge and recoil shook 
our barn vigorously. 

Heavy artillery in the rear sent screaming 
shells over our heads. Whirl-ez-ez-z-z-z out over 
the line the shells sped and twenty seconds later 
a distant thud returned to our impatient ears. And 



BATTLE OF ST. MIHIEL 123 

SO the hour passed. Then another, and I was re- 
lieved from guard. To sleep was an impossibility 
so I replaced my equipment, procured my souvenir 
cane and, with gentility of manner, strode down 
the village street in true soldier fashion. 

The rain had stopped and the clouds were 
rapidly disappearing. A faint streak of light 
came from the east. The tanks were under way. 
And now the doughboy, at the stroke of five, rose 
from his hated water-soaked trench and went roar- 
ing over the top. The Infantry swept across no 
man's land, across the trenches the Boches had 
been widening and deepening for four years. In 
numerous dugouts were found the none too hope- 
ful occupants who were hiding as a result of the 
tremendous artillery preparation. A well-posted 
observer could see the operations for miles around. 
A movie man would have thrilled with joy at the 
opportunity. 

On the Rue la Croix between the village cemetery 
and the village church, a distance of three blocks — 
as blocks go in an average American city — I be- 
came an itinerant sight-seeker. The morning air 
Avas brisk but an army overcoat well buttoned kept 
the body-heat within bounds. 

Out at the cemetery the elevation was good and 
we grouped about to watch the march of events. 
Near the church in the center of the small village 
stood the first-aid stations. Here also we would 
gather to witness the returning heroes. 

The first rays of dawn stole over the landscape 
at last. It was a relief to our strained eyes and 
over-abundant inquisitiveness. 



124 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

The artillery had gradually ceased its activity 
to allow the Infantry an unchecked advance, and 
now all was quietness except for an occasional re- 
port which would intercept the new found si- 
lence. 

Over the dell on the highway — the main artery 
leading up to the Front — we could discern long 
columns of marching troops. In the semi-darkness 
khaki-clad men, fully equipped and armed to the 
teeth, were marching — thousands upon thousands. 
They came pouring in on all sides. How long this 
line had been moving we could not judge and only 
the dawn revealed the secret movement. 

At daybreak the areoplanes were on hand and 
observation balloons were ascending into space. 
The whir of the plane was new music to our ears. 
Like great birds these planes swung out over the 
front lines and then returned with messages which 
were dropt on the battery sites. 

After an interval of comparative silence the large 
calibered rifles opened up again. New data had 
been brot back by the bird-men who had gone to 
the lines in search of information. The plane re- 
turning would descend to earth in spirals, make 
one dashing sweep and deposit a message in midair 
which quickly fell, according to the law, upon large 
white canvases stretched upon the ground for the 
purpose. The characteristic tail of every message 
would whirl and spin in the wind, giving the re- 
ceiving station due warning of the coming areo- 
gram. 

Soon the aircraft was well in evidence. Allied 



BATTLE OF ST. MIHIEL 125 

planes dominated the situation. Not a German 
ventured over. Once an American bird-man 
crost the path of a traveling projectile which had 
been deflected in its flight by the loss of a rotating 
band. The collision was tragic — the shooting of a 
friendly messenger — but we learned later with 
much relief that the aviator escaped only with 
severe bruises. At the hospital I talked with the 
officer personally. His tale was hair-raising. 



CHAPTER 31 

Victory 

News of the battle came back to us desultorily. 
We caught bits of the great story from the re- 
turning wounded. Victory was ours — this was cer- 
tain. The Hun had been taken by complete sur- 
prise. Lieut. Duffie, who had gone to the advanced 
front, returned with a pet phrase: "We caught 
them with their boots off," he proudly told us. 

The St. ]\Iihiel salient — 150 square miles — was 
completely evacuated by the Hun. The awkward 
"pocket" was now clipped and the line straight- 
ened. From the "Stars and Stripes," the official 
paper for the American Expeditionary Forces 
(A. E. F.), France, dated Sept. 20th, 1918, we 
read the following account: 

"The First American Army, commanded in the 
field by General John J. Pershing, struck its first 
blow last week. * * * The St. Mihiel salient was 
an ungainly snout projecting from the German 
line, an area of some 150 square miles, almost half 
the size of the Chateau-Thierry salient. The Ger- 
mans had elung to it grimly since the second month 
of the war, because it held a bit of fair and fertile 
French land in bondage, because it annihilated a 
precious French railway junction and thus cut 
completely the short and easy communication be- 
tween lonesome Verdun and Lorraine, and because 
it had proved, and might again prove, useful in any 
attack on Verdun." 



VICTORY 127 

At the receiving hospital we greeted the dough- 
boys. Fresh from action they came with eager 
eyes and resolute bearing, some legless, others minus 
an arm, a hand or an eye. Some reached the 
operating table and then crossed the Great Divide ; 
some passed over en route. But a majority came 
in with a "scratch" — a finger or so missing or a 
3-inch gash in the thigh. Laboring under power- 
ful emotions most of the men failed to grasp the 
severity of their wounds. 

One fellow who had lost a finger gave us a 
cursory sketch of a recent encounter while he 
perched stork-like on either leg. He literally 
danced in pain and yet would not admit it. He 
would have his story out and he would be brave. 
"A scratch," he said. 

Large supply trucks gathered the slightly 
wounded, then hurried to the rear. The sight 
was truly a novel one, the intermixture of khaki 
and snow-white linen. 

Early in the day the first contingent of prisoners 
came trickling back on their way to safety. For 
two days a steady stream came down from the 
north — 15,000 in all. They came in groups of fifty, 
a hundred, two hundred and in every case there 
were two M. P.'s in charge, one leading, one 
trailing. 

In fact only the cavalry and the airplanes kept 
pace with the swift doughboys who scarcely both- 
ered to send back their hundreds of Huns, but let 
them drift back unguarded to be picked up later 
by the M. P. Imagine a group of American pris- 



128 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

oners in a like predicament, why ! they would have 
wiped a couple of Boche guards completely out of 
existence. 

The prisoners came in droves, each displaying 
an incorrigible cheerfulness that would have deep- 
ly grieved the war-firm of Ludendorif and Hinden- 
burg. In the first day's bag were several regi- 
mental commanders, majors, lieutenant colonels, a 
battalion complete in staff and script and a be- 
spectacled professor who had invented a poison 
gas. As is the custom in war-fare, these commis- 
sioned gentlemen were motored to the rear, an act 
of respect for the higher rank. Every attention was 
given them in the hope that valuable information 
would fall from their lips. 

During the morning two Packards passed our 
quarters bearing officials who had so recently been 
overshadowed by the Black Eagle and who were 
now accompanied by a representative of our Golden 
Eagle, all conversing in the friendliest sort of 
fashion. 

Towards noon Sgt. Fleck and crew returned to 
quarters. For obvious reasons each man wore a 
full-moon face. Each sought to effect a normal 
facial grin but to conceal the tri-fold emotions of 
ferocity, amusement and awe, peculiar to Yanks, 
vv'as an impossibility, hence the lunar lollipops. 

"Kid" Thompson and McHenry made a bold 
attempt to depict all they had seen. Woolaver 
talked long and loud and gathered his audience 
quickly. Groups of boys assembled in the field, 
at the corner pump and in the hayloft, talking 



VICTORY 129 

loudly, some gesticulating wildly and the ever- 
present and inevitable arguments arose ghost-like 
in our midst. 

All thru the days "news agents" came back 
with "first hand information," There was the 
energetic "Curly" Best who, tho he talked as if 
a rope was tightly coiled about the larynx, was a 
"go-getter." And "Pigeon" Jester knew a thing 
or two altho Gulick came in for his share and 
the two boys, professing to embrace latitudinarian- 
ism, whatever that means, sought to impinge upon 
the other fellow his opinions, raw as they some- 
times were. 

Now Cornelius Cook and "Panhandle" Emerick 
would engage in some real mental gymnastics and 
one or the other would submit if bested, but not 
Gulick! No, sir, and our good friend in making 
an outlandish statement would cling to the end, 
or, finding himself hopeless, would revert to howl- 
ing laughter. In fact, Gulick always talked and 
laughed in concert and thus would retire, after 
a brisk argument, to his innermost thots in perfect 
contentment. 

In the company office across the street gathered 
the "noncoms" and other notables. Our new 
"Top," "Abe" Nathan, cousin of Kottinger of 
the tribe of Izy Kazat and chambermaid to Lieut. 
DufBe, was chief orator and boss. Fritz, our mascot 
airedale captured from the Germans, added to the 
brilliance of "Abe's" conferences. 

Now, the common herd of privates in the barn 
would look upon Abe & Co. with envy and scorn. 



130 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

And the "noncoms" returned their superior gaze 
in true Napoleonic style and you should see the 
petty thots bound and rebound upon the wall 
of demarkation. At times it seemed that the ancient 
structure of caste privileges would obliterate that 
finer relationship of man — Brotherhood. 

So you see, reader, the condition of affairs on 
this day of all days when titanic issues should 
have taken precedence over all other thots and 
engaged our entire attention. Perhaps the emo- 
tions of man play upon our subtler bodies in a very 
real way and, if so, then we may have joined the 
seething emotional world and acted upon the psy- 
chology of the moment. 

Moreover, we were idle and without a definite 
piece of work at hand. We were ready to fight, 
to death if needs be, but would insist, in idle 
moments, upon gossip, abuse and general un- 
brotherliness. Happily these occasions were few. 



CHAPTER 32 
Kaleidoscopic Days 

All thru the day our naval guns hurled hot 
steel into the distant enemy lines. At noon an 
aerial battle was in progress. Three Germans came 
over the lines looking for trouble. Gibson, who 
had stationed himself in the field nearby, came 
rushing to the barn and shouted the news. We 
saw a single Spad coming on. Would this illus- 
trious bird-man dare and do and perhaps die? 
Our question was soon answered; into the group he 
darted, and we could hear the rat-tat-tat of ma- 
chine guns which speaks a well known language. 
We breathed lightly; w'e clinched our fists. The 
odds were great but our resolute warrior finds his 
mark. A Hun sideslips and falls to earth. Death 
to one, disorder to two and victory to the in- 
domitable bird-man. 

Thru the' afternoon thousands of army trucks 
passed our corner. Ambulances and field-kitchens ; 
food-supply, munitions, troop and auto-trucks came 
and went in one unending line. Traffic M. P.'s 
stood at every corner directing the movements. 
A motorcyclist would stop, draw forth a map, ask 
a few questions and be off; undue hesitancy 
would have caused a jam in the on-coming line 
of vehicles. 

At the village church the corps men established 
a temporary hospital. The Salvation Army was 



132 THEU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

overflowing with wounded as was also the Y. M. 
C. A. where hot chocolate and cigarettes were 
served to deserving men. 

The sun finally settled on the western rim of 
the world and with its passing came the end of 
a perfect day. Success had attended every effort 
of the American forces, and by nightfall the Ger- 
man army was many, many miles away. 

In the electric hours of Friday morning, the day 
following, two scouting parties, groping their way 
cautiously thru the village of Hattonville, came 
face to face in the street and when it became cer- 
tain that friend faced friend a general meeting 
followed. In the joy of union the Yanks grasped 
each other by the hand as only Yanks can do. 

This union completed the new front line running 
thru Combres — St. Maurice — Hattonville — St. Be- 
noit — Thiaucourt. The last named being some 25 
miles southwest of iletz, the objective of the First 
Army. 

Except for Sgt. Fleck's crew, who had worked 
on a French position a few hours the first morning, 
our Battery had not participated in actual combat. 
True, we were on the Front when the floodgate 
opened and were prepared in an emergency to 
assist the doughboy, but the Hun had been caught 
so completely unawares that our services were not 
required. Besides we were without anti-aircraft 
equipment and you know that good intentions alone 
are not enough in modern warfare. 

The first morning after the battle a few strag- 
gling prisoners passed thru the village. They were 



KALEIDOSCOPIC DAYS 13:^ 

tired, dusty and discouraged and it was evident 
that they represented remnants of a broken down 
war-machine and had found shelter within the 
Allied lines for the night only. The noctural 
vigilance in anxiety and fading hope vanished with 
a coming day and it required but little skill for 
the Yanks to clear the occupied territory of all 
wandering enemy, 

Lieut. Duffie and a squad of men started for the 
Front in an auto-mount borrowed from a French 
battery but the traffic was so congested that they 
returned to quarters in discouragement. The boys 
had hoped to crawl up to the new positions and 
help wing a Boche or two. This was the 13th. 

Next day we spruced up at tha village pump. 
Now water, just plain, ordinary water, was a 
scarce commodity on the Front. Our only pump- 
ing station worked over time. In fact there was 
such a demand for bathing that we decided to 
make our acquaintance with the village stream. 
The thot soon spread thru a baker's dozen or more 
and off to the old swimming hole we betook our- 
selves with one lad shouting, "Hie thee hence!" 

In a green pasture beyond the creek w^as camped 
a brigade of Infantry. Hundreds of lads were busy 
cleaning their outfits and bathing. They had come 
thru a stiff campaign and their bodies, once dis- 
robed, evinced the fact. 

One fellow, Jim by name, was in bad straits. 
He had had a bath two weeks previous, a shave 
once and the only clothes he possessed were on his 
back. He owned a skimpy towel, a half-used cake 



134 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

of kitchen soap and a strait razor. Extra clothing 
had been cast aside to make a lighter pack; toilet 
soap was impossible to obtain and the razor outfit 
stolen. 

Luckily the sun was shining brightly when Jim 
began operations. First, a thick crust of dried mud 
was scraped from his shoes. Then off came leggins, 
SOX, overshirt, breeches and undersuit. Soap, 
Avater and 'elbow grease" worked wonders and 
the clean clothing was hung over the bushes for 
Old Sol to dry. 

Next a shave was in order. Where would Jim 
find the scented shaving cream, the camel-hair 
shaving brush, hot water, a keen-edged safety, a 
mirror, the herpicide and talcum? These articles 
were not to be had, but then an American soldier is 
very resourceful. Cold water and kitchen soap 
soon produced a good lather, the finger tips served 
as a brush and a small pool of water made an 
excellent reflector. The strait razor, patted over 
the shoe-top, produced a fairly good edge. The 
shave over, herpicide and powder were thot of and 
Jim promised himself an extra helping after the 
war, back home in dear old U. S. A. 

Next came the bath. This over, the skimpy 
towel, rubbed briskly over the body, gave a healthy 
glow. Old Sol is a wonderful orb ; see — his clothes 
are dry. Dressing was a cheerful occupation and 
soon Jim was all "dolled" up. 

"Well, old Kid," Jim shouted over his shoulder 
as he started campward, "I'm settin' pretty." 

On our way back from the swimming hole we 



KALEIDOSCOPIC DAYS 135 

came upon some wandering refugees. The first 
contingent, the advance guards of hundreds, 
reached our small village after having been re- 
leased from bondage by the American forces. It 
was fine to witness the greetings that passed be- 
tween the peasant folk and the soldiers. After the 
battle was won the old folks and small children 
came out of their cellars and dugouts, many fall- 
ing to their knees in prayer and tears of in- 
coherent thanksgiving, the young girls flinging 
their arms around the embarrassed doughboys and 
kissing them without reserve, in the name of 
Liberty, Egalite and Fraternite. 

As we gazed long and sorrowfully at the groups 
of refugees who came streaming into the village 
during the following two days, we were reminded 
of the snug little homes that nestled 'neath the 
shadows of our wooded hills in California. The 
contrast was marked — to see these homeless wan- 
derers, the inevitable product of man-made war. 
They were victims of circumstances just as our 
mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters might have 
been victims of circumstances 

The sight was enough to fire the emotions of 
a fighting Yank and I heard many remarks that 
might have otherwise remained unsaid. "And all 
because one man had ambition," Sgt. Gilbert often 
repeated. 

"A beast, a child-murderer, the greatest vampire- 
ghoul of all ages," came from a man who is a 
man, a lover of children and a minister of the 
gospel. 



136 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

On this same afternoon our good old lady, owner 
of our quarters, returned to her cherished home. 
This time she was accompanied by her son, a 
strong honest-looking middle-aged man who had 
worked in the fields under German rule for eight 
centimes per hour (1% cents). Cook Steger in- 
vited the two to be our special guests and at the 
supper table in the kitchen these two hungry souls 
munched long and loud. Truly it was a time of 
thanksgiving for them. Later I noticed that our 
land-lady had discovered the missing rabbit and 
pig pens. I have no doubt that the time of re- 
joicing far overshadowed her domestic troubles. 

Over at the church in a group of refugees, newly 
arrived, sat a fair maiden of twenty summers or 
less. She was beautiful to look upon. Her missing 
arm was enough — it was the old story. A bursting 
shell from enemy hands had torn the limb from 
her body: miraculous the escape, sad the result. 

An old lady, hunchback and childish, sat upon 
the church steps. She fingered a small bundle 
and who can say, this may have been her only 
possession. 

Army trucks were converted into jitney buses 
and our civilian population was motored back to 
receiving centers where lodgings were furnished 
and meals served. 

I fain would dwell upon this painful subject 
and draw down on my heart an incessant flow 
of cries from the wilderness. I dare not unlock 
the floodgates; in the interim let me hurry on. 

"Curly" Best was promoted, by common con- 



KALEIDOSCOPIC DAYS 137 

sent, to chief salvage and junk dealer. Already to 
his credit you could count a motorcycle and side- 
car, two German machine guns, helmets, gasmasks 
and a ferocious dagger with belt. The motorcycle 
was minus a front rim but Best soon found the 
missing piece and set to work under candle light 
to construct a new front wheel. Now it was not 
urgent that "Curly" work under candle light; 
a new day would have furnished the proper illum- 
ination, but, child-like, he could not stay his im- 
patient interest. The helmets and gasmasks were 
begged from returning prisoners or were found 
along the highway where the Huns, realizing their 
safety and permanent residence in war-time 
France, had sent their headgear flying thru space 
with a "k — plop" upon the ground. Where Best 
found the "cold-steel" only the Kaiser knows. 

Our good friend Corporal Blanky, peanut vendor 
and crap-shooter de luxe, remained in Toul on our 
way thru because of sickness. Poor Sundquist 
contracted a severe cold and was removed to the 
base hospital. Both boys came back to the Battery 
later, and I can now see "Sunny" and Blanky 
crossing the field and coming up to our gun posi- 
tion all smiles and glad to be home M'ith the boys 
again. 



CHAPTER 33 

The Advanced Front 

On September 17th orders came to proceed to 
the new line. The kitchen and ordnance equip- 
ment was removed from the old lady's house and 
barn, and then made ready for the trucks. Packs 
were rolled, guns oiled and equipment examined. 
We searched in the hay for valuables and I was 
reminded of the hay fight that was waged be- 
tween the lofts the night before. In the hubbub 
a shoe or two entered the argument and later a 
shower of them. "Bessie" Yourstone received a 
shoe, with compliments, right on the "dome," 
"You can't hurt solid ivory," Jimmie Adams 
later ventured with one corner of his mouth slight- 
ly twisted. 

And so we were leaving our summer camp. No 
longer could we peep thru the kaleidoscope or at- 
tend the daily "circus" of human events. In the 
afternoon three French trucks swung into our 
front yard. Four had been ordered and Lieut. 
Duffie cursed the erratic Frenchmen. In staccato 
French he speedily jumped upon their guileless 
heads and was rewarded with, "It tiz ze order." 
Very well, thot the Lieutenant, and after consult- 
ing the Battery decided to accept the three trucks 
and move in the best manner possible, because to 
wait for another truck would have risked a night 
ride amid phantom sky raiders and sombre thots. 



THE ADVANCED FEONT 139 

Just before leaving a sergeant of the medical 
corps came for the salvaged motorcycle. "Curly" 
Best relinquished all claim and returned the stolen 
property. Sergeant Miller tucked his newly ac- 
quired double Lewis rotary machine gun away in 
our baggage and made good its escape. Where he 
acquired the gun and how was always a mystery 
to me but on the Front every company soon learned 
the art of self help helf . 

So now we were off. The three trucks raced 
past the familiar village graveyard, out onto the 
highway. The small village of Ansauville faded in 
the distance and we threw a wistful glance back to 
our summer home, our place of initiation. Legs 
and arms dangled over the edge of each crowded 
truck. Lieut. Duffie was certain that only Yanks 
could travel thus. 

Ten minutes' ride brot us to the front line 
trenches so recently evacuated by the Germans. 
Elaborate trenches they were with shelter, running 
boards and communication facilities. Beyond the 
trenches our highway showed marked evidence of 
artillery activity; the road was literally torn to 
pieces so thoro had been our fire on the twelfth 
when the Huns retreated over this same route. 
Several companies of colored engineers were at 
work repairing and placing this main artery in 
order. In the fields on either side we counted 
thousands of shell holes. 

A single tank, alone and obdurate, stood mo- 
tionless upon a side hill. Why did it not move and 
join the traffic? What was there to impede its 



140 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

progress? Had its niechanism refused to play or 
had a shell blotted out its life? We could not 
say. 

Our route ran thru Bericourt, Coramercy, Essey, 
Pannes and Nonsard. About one mile beyond 
Nonsard, on the road to Vigneulles we stopped. 
The location was three miles due south of St. Be- 
noit, two miles east of 0. U. Heudicourt and two 
miles west of Pannes. We camped that night on 
the edge of a stately forest. 



CHAPTER 34 
The Fun Begins 

With very little ceremony we quit the trucks, 
unloaded our baggage and provisions and, in scat- 
tered formation, scrambled down the lane and 
across a green meadow. In the first clump of 
oaks we staked our claims and pitched tents. Sgt. 
Gilbert and kitchen force soon had a roaring fire 
started under a septic coffee can and we were 
served, a few minutes later, with a steaming cup 
of coffee, corned beef, and hard tack. 

A large canvas stretched over our ordnance and 
provisions was covered in turn by green branches 
for camouflage and a guard was stationed nearby. 

In our little pup-tents we were having a "bully" 
time. Wayne Huffman and I buttoned shelter- 
halves and bunked together. To allow proper 
drainage a small ditch was indented around the 
tent. Then a hollow was scooped to allow for 
hips and grass inlaid gave some measure of com- 
fort. 

The first evening was warm. Wayne played his 
guitar as I sat upon my blanket writing home. The 
sun was set and twilight brooded over the coun- 
try. From a camp across the meadow came strains 
of music and the fulgency of nature struck a 
sympathetic note in every heart. War was least 
in our minds and in its stead was a lavender joy 
of the great out-of-doors. In nature's wonderful 



142 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

influence we gained a new lease on life and I can 
remember tucking into army blankets with a new 
hope of a future home coming and utter trust in 
the Great Architect of the Universe. 

Darkness gathered. A night-bird sent forth a 
plaintive call and a slight breeze rustled the leaves 
about our tents. In the watch of the night all 
were unmindful of the star shells that intermit- 
tently illuminated the Front, except the guards 
who walked their posts in military manner. A 
moment of utter silence and lassitude came. The 
guards stopped short in their tracks and listened 
intently ! 

A report ; biz-ez-ez-ez-zn-zn — BANG ! The shell 
found its mark near the corner of the woods, two 
blocks from our camp. Another report and — biz- 
ez-ez-ez-zn-zn— BANG ! 

Had Fritzie observed our movement in the after- 
noon and was he now searching out our location? 
Was the German Landstrum preparing an attack? 
Biz-ez-ez-ez-zn-zn— -BANG ! 

The Lieutenant stirred in his tent. He was rest- 
less and fully aware that the bomb-proof trenches 
we neglected to dig might become an urgent neces- 
sity. Another shell. We were helpless. As the 
seventh and last shell came crashing thru the air 
we quit our tents. The projectile plowed up the 
earth across the meadow a kilometer away. The 
explosion died away and the lull that followed 
added to the growing suspense. 

A distant whir greeted our ears. An enemy 
plane, loaded with "eggs," was on an errand of 



THE FUN BEGINS 143 

destruction. Distant searchlights soon found their 
mark but the nocturnal visitor was undismayed, 
for amid the crashing of anti-aircraft shells he 
came steadily forward. It was a Gotha, a giant of 
abnormal proportions. 

The plane passed over our camp flying low. We 
held our breath and for us it required but little 
imagination to visualize the result of a dropping 
bomb. Deep in the woods "she" unloaded and the 
series of explosions was a sad reception for dough- 
boys yonder. The plane made a wide detour and 
with a disappearing night-raider the anti-aircraft 
guns died away and once more all was quiet. 

A night hawk broke the silence and later the 
boys slipped out into dreamland one by one. The 
evanescent world of strife became the confirmed 
haven of peace and rest. Out into starry space 
amid nebular vastness we flew that night and only 
with great reluctance did we return to waking 
consciousness the following morning. 

At eight o'clock breakfast was over and the 
Lieutenant assembled the Battery for the purpose 
of forming a scouting party. Two French Cap- 
tains were on hand early and explained that within 
the wooded tract was located a German anti-air- 
craft battery and also that fifty or sixty Germans 
were roaming around loose within the sector. So 
in a fan-shaped manner we spread out over the 
surrounding woods and at noon all returned to 
camp without success. In the afternoon it rained. 

The following day was a busy one. Without 
ceremony we struck tents, gathered together our 



U4 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

possessions and scampered into the forest. About 
three hundred yards away were located several 
abandoned German camps, the barracks and out- 
hoyses of which were in comparatively good con- 
dition; the reader will remember that the drive of 
September 12th was such a complete surprise that 
the Hun retired in haste and disorder, with little 
time to destroy the buildings while evacuating. 

So the boys descended upon the camp with bulg- 
ing arms and glaring curiosity. Then came the 
scramble for beds, stoves, cupboards, chairs, tables, 
candles, lamps, and the many other useful house- 
hold articles which Fritzie left behind. If you 
were quick and grasping you were in luck ; if slow 
and unselfish you were out of luck. On the Front 
it's every man for himself, possession being nine- 
tenths of the law. 

Our new camp consisted of four small shacks 
and the kitchen, irregularly grouped among the 
giant oaks and making an altogether delightful 
summer camp. The woods were inwrought with 
heavy foliage of fern and shrubbery but war and 
military life blotted out the romance of nature and 
placed her on a war basis. 

Utility, not beauty, was the diction of Thor, god 
of war, and so long, ugly bomb-proof trenches and 
shell craters, which were as gaping wounds, dotted 
the landscape. Splintered or uprooted trees ac- 
companied every shell hole. Caved-in dugouts, 
barber-wire entanglements, rubbish piles, foul- 
smelling stables, and the works of man generally 
were strewn about — a constant reminder of war. 



THE FUN BEGINS 146 

Our little shacks were soon in order ; bunks were 
nailed into place, stoves and pipes fitted, curtains 
hung, carpets laid and bric-a-brac daintily and 
tastefully placed, that is— to a soldier's liking. 
For instance, in one corner McHenry nailed a 
souvenir Hun helmet, a gas-mask, guns, daggers, 
trench knives, hand-grenades and other dainty 
articles. On his table stood a carbide lamp in its 
last stage of corrodent beauty; a sweet smelling 
pipe; several well worn volumes; and the usual 
matches and cigarette ashes. 

Corporal "Vic" Legerton insisted on nailing 
nice pictures, clipped from a photoplay magazine, 
upon his portion of the wall and I can assure you 
that "Vic's" excellent taste placed him on par 
with our friend David W. Griffith. 

I wrote a story some three weeks later about 
number one gun-crew's shack, or Palace as it was 
afterwards named, and the boys were so pleased 
with it at the time that I now reeopy it from an 
old letter under date of October 14th, 1918, for 
your pleasure. "U. S." is a fictitious character 
but the story is true to life. 



CHAPTER 35 
The Palace 

Nestled between giant oaks in a deep forest 
there stands a shack. I say shack ; yes, outwardly. 
A stranger would glance at it but once and then 
turn his casual look to other objects of more in- 
terest which nature has so generously strewn about. 
But wait, let your attention be arrested if but 
for a moment; let me show you about. The Palace 
will interest you, yes, but the life that stirs therein 
will astound you. 

First I will give you a bit of history, my friend, 
concerning the ground upon which the Palace 
stands. Let us take this path which leads thru 
the forest and up to the front door and by the 
time we reach the Palace I will have given you 
a story — a story alive with romance. This is a 
familiar old path. The boys travel over it every 
day; it leads from home to duty and from duty 
to home. 

And now the story : You see, it was in the year 
of our Lord, nineteen fourteen, that certain Prus- 
sian '"gentlemen" engineered the assassination of 
an Austrian nobleman and operations began. The 
world today is aware of the sinister intentions of 
the German High Command. Austria served an 
impossible ultimatum on Serbia and Russia mobil- 
ized. Germany saw her chance, shouted "Der 
tag!" and, like the fierce leopard, sprang at the 
throat of Europe. France came to the rescue of 



THE PALACE 147 

Belgium as did also England. Later followed 
Italy, Japan, China, Montenegro and then, alas! 
much later, after gross violations of neutrality had 
been committed by the Central Powers, the Stars 
and Stripes crossed the "pond" — with Lusitania 
fresh in memory — bringing the Yanks under her 
sacred folds. Which act saw practically the entire 
earth under arms. 

Meanwhile the Hun hordes overran Belgium and 
Northern France. Battles of a desperate character 
were fought and the brave French, sadly in need 
of soldiers and equipment, fell back fighting stub- 
bornly, and reluctantly giving up ground inch by 
inch. And now let me take your attention for a 
moment from this gigantic conflict and all the 
elaborate details which must naturally be the re- 
sult of so vast an effort, and let us turn to this 
sector of the battle front — this beautiful woods. 
You see, Fritzie walked this very path that you 
and I are now treading, not a month ago. Think 
of it! A month ago the Hun overran this very 
spot. He built barracks and outhouses and dug- 
outs. An elaborate mass, indeed, with every mod- 
ern convenience for house keeping, and with a 
four-year residence which gave ample time for im- 
provements. 

0! yes, they have been here four years. Look — 
over there is a row of officers' huts. Not bad look- 
ing, eh? Notice the moss covered walls and the 
rustic effect, the windows curtained to match. 

My friend, would you be surprised if I told you 
that the day after the Yanks passed thru here, the 



148 THRU THE FIEES OF FEANCE 

Hun on the run, you could pass from house to 
house and discover such articles as pianos, inlaid 
hardwood furniture, large golden-framed mirrors, 
et cetra ? Ah ! we are drawing near to the Palace. 
Yes, I mean just all that and more; it is a haven 
of rest and comfort and strange to say, on the 
Front, Peace. 

"Watch your step, the recent rain has made the 
path rather slippery. Now, over there in the 
front yard is our washing outfit. There we boil, 
scrub and chase the germ. But never mind this 
beauty spot, let us enter the shack. That board 
walk that leads around the side is a new stunt, 
the boys made that improvement this morning. 
You see, we are w^orking and improving our home 
most every day. Note the curtained windows and 
that potted plant; an improvised affair, I'll admit, 
but works wonderfully. There is the polished brass 
French dress helmet nailed over the door — a deco- 
ration, I say. 

Let me open the door, friend. There; yes, a 
regular German lock, a block affair with a hor- 
izontal handle, which, by the way, is indicative of 
their nature: Running sideways and ending no- 
where in particular. 

Hail! Hail! Fellows, let me introduce Uncle 
Sam, who hails from the States and brings greet- 
ings from Col. Puree. U. S., meet the Irish Cook. 
There, I knew you'd take. Once of the States, 
always. Meet Mexican Pete. No, no relation, 
just trimmed it that way in defiance of old Bill 
Kaiser. Now, this swinging bunk on the right as 



THE PALACE 14" 

you enter the Palace belongs to Gib. ! beg your 
pardon, Gib, allow me to introduce U. S. I thot 
you were out. Yes, yes he was in High when the 
war broke out and is still going with full steam 
ahead. 

Over here, please, by the double bed. Meet Mac. 
Broad shoulders, eh ? Some kicks, I say. He paid 
57 francs for them. And now shake hands with 
Smiles. Yes, that's his nature, and it's sunshine 
and a good story served hot any hour of the day. 
Smiles is acquainted with the two-headed Black 
Eagle but he now fights under the one of Golden 
variety. 

Swede next. Born in America and he's an 
American. He laughs, and smiles, too, with a bit 
of voice attached, and generally sunshiny. In this 
part of the Palace the boys have lace curtains and 
flowers and everything, but now thru this door into 
the next room and meet Crum and Bart; two 
Yanks, and bed fellows they are. Right in that 
massive mahogany bed they rest their bones every 
night. Crum is Yankee but Bart was born in 
sunny Italy, tho now he's one of Uncle Sam's very 
own. 

Now, over on this side: This two-story affair 
balances the furniture of the room, don't you 
think ? Sharp, Old Man Sharp ! come down and 
meet a friend. Let me advise you that this fellow 
is a pointer; no, not a dog but a gun-pointer and 
the other day a Boche fell from out the depths of 
the sky just because this fellow pointed him 
out. 



150 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

Now, meet this little fellow Fuller who, after 
each meal, is full-er-n the next fellow and who is 
a wonder. He doesn 't say much but thinks a great 
deal — about home 'n everj^thing. Yes, yes, a reg- 
ular guy is this Big Boy. He merely lengthened 
his bed to allow for extra feet and legs. 

And now, over in this corner, done up in marble 
and white blankets is Caruso II, sometimes Scribby, 
who sings like a nightingale and entertains to your 
heart's content — in dugouts when shot and shell is 
falling, even. 

Meet Wayne of guitar fame. ! yes, the in- 
strument you now hold has received much atten- 
tion, but then, he tells his girl all about it. Let 
us be over with the introductions and we will have 
a tune later. Wayne plays Hawaiian music that 
sends chills up your spine. Meet Ledger, men- 
tioned in the Journal and now serving his country. 
These pictures tacked about the wall, especially 
that hugging scene — but then, I'll tell you about 
it later. 

Colonel Rock, meet U. S. That object behind the 
bunk is not a dangerous weapon; just a walking 
stick — (while the Colonel turns to procure the 
cane) — he's a bit cranky, old rather and writes a 
little to amuse himself but it's all junk for I've 
read his stuff. 

Allow — Kid Thompson — allow me to introduce 
one of pugilistic fame. Yes, he's small, but 0! 
that wicked left ! And now last but not least : 
Meet Deacon Powers. He has seen service in the 
ranks at the Chicago stock yards, also Coney Isle 



THE PALACE 15] 

and can repeat, in one breath, the pedigree of his 
Guernsey cattle a mile long. Clever, you know, 
and can sell anything or announce a sideshow to 
perfection. Give us a handkerchief sale Deac, 
we're thru the introductions. 0, very well, if you 
promise later. 

And, now look us over, U. S. Note how neat 
and clean everything appears. The Skipper in- 
spects our Palace three or four times weekly and 
at each inspection his praise is ours. When we 
arrived on the spot there was nothing, just a shack 
and four bare walls. And all these hundreds of 
articles Ave have salvaged from here, there and 
everywhere. We started in a small way but each 
day has added to the beauty of our surroundings. 
This card-table unfolds thus. The green felt makes 
an excellent playing board and many an hour at 
"500" is spent over it. In the front again, please, 
where we have engravers, gun-smiths, boot-makers 
and mechanical experts. Behold unique leather 
carrying cases, fancy canes, made-over officer's 
boots, engraved shell-cases. 

You must go ? Allow me to open the door. Why 
hesitate? 0! you have enjoyed the visit? Ah, 
yes, a delightful home. We're all boys and we 
belong to Uncle Sam. We fight, too, but we live 
here in our spare moments. 

Goodbye! (a ringing chorus) goodbye! You are 
welcome here at any time. Come again and see us 
and — the Palace. 



CHAPTER 36 
A French Seventy Five 

In the afternoon of our first day in German- 
made barracks number one gun-crew was ordered 
to establish and begin excavating a gun-pit. At 
the edge of the forest and across a green meadow 
in the open our ambitious crew began operations. 

Advice had reached us that a certain French 
battery, equipped with the famous French seventy 
five, was moving up to our advanced position and 
that we were to share in the manning of their 
guns, i. e., the French hold the position two or 
three days a week, and we the remainder. Now 
we had been promised auto-mounts of American 
make and so were not particularly disposed to 
work on French materiel, much less to associate 
intimately with, and perhaps be dominated by, the 
French. But Uncle Sam was slow in shipping 
equipment and we were anxious for action so 
Lieutenant Duffie accepted the plan which after- 
wards proved to be very successful. 

Fresh dirt was soon flying. A hole 12 feet across 
and 3 feet deep, on the hill side, was leveled out 
and later a 7 foot conical depression was sunk in 
the center to the depth of 4 feet. 

Before the excavation had scarce begun a French 
sergeant, who helped direct the work, insisted that 
a protective camouflage for enemy eyes be erected 
immediately. Whereupon we planted 4 posts, 



I 



A FRENCH SEVENTY-FIVE 153 

nailed on the cross beams, and stretched the painted 
burlap on chicken wire over the frame work, tack- 
ing down the ends. It was over in a wink and 
our French friend marveled at seeing some Yankee 
pep in action. Under this camouflage we worked 
unobserved. 

When the boys returned to camp at sundown 
with picks and shovels over their shoulders it was 
generally agreed that a good half day's work had 
been accomplished. Next morning Sgt. Hisey's 
crew was on deck and began placing the founda- 
tion of the serai-fixed 75 millimetre French anti- 
aircraft gun which had arrived the night before. 

First, the circular running board was adjusted, 
according to the level, around the outer rim of 
the inner conical depression. A receiving standard 
was placed in the bottom of the cone and slanting 
struts from the running board to the receiving 
standard were bolted into place. Two heavy 
wings were then carefully and laboriously dragged 
into place by all hands available, and bolted . 

This accomplished, the rifle was wheeled into a 
forward position and, with the assistance of a 
special frame work and ropes, was hoisted into the 
receiving trunnions, then capped. 

Of course the French sergeant, whom the boys 
argued ought to be wearing knickerbockers, di- 
rected the job with the usual arm and shoulder 
exercises amid spasmodic and loutish gesticula- 
tions. 

The gun proper being in position it remained 
for us to place and adjust the vertical and lateral 



154 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

telescopes, the vertical and lateral deflection set- 
ters, range reader and then test the azmuth of 
position. Sgt. C. C. Ledgerton, ex-top and hard 
guy, was an expert in mathematics so with his 
assistance the complicated and combined range 
drum and vertical deflection setter mechanism was 
put right, in this manner: First, the gun was 
elevated to forty-five degrees according to the tri- 
angular level, then a level, placed upon a re- 
ceiving surface of the arm extending from the 
axle of the piece to the drum and setter, marked 
the horizontal position and the two parts were held 
in co-ordination while bolts and nuts were ad- 
justed. 

To adjust the telescopes the gun was pointed at 
a distant church steeple with the aid of the peep- 
sights on the gun barrel and a good eye, and then 
the telescopes were directed to the same object and 
clamped. 

The camouflage was now rearranged, slight ex- 
cavations made for shell eases and tool boxes, odds 
and ends completed and behold ! a man-made mon- 
ster with a long jaw and an ugly bark ready for 
action. 

Meanwhile Sgt. Daniel and Radio Sgt. Ward 
had supervised and installed the range section ap- 
paratus some forty feet to the left of the gun-pit. 
Telephonic communication had been established be- 
tween the out-post, a mile away, and the range 
station, and then with the gun-pit. The reader 
will understand the function of the out-post by 
this example : A plane is spotted by the DP 



A FRENCH SEVENTY-FIVE 15a 

(distant post) ; the spotter phones the information 
to the spotter at the gun position ; the two ob- 
servers then track the same plane by means of 
special instruments. Now draw an imaginary line 
from each post to the plane and a line between 
the posts and you have a triangle. The distance 
between the two posts or base line being of a known 
quantity the angles can be computed and thus the 
altitude of the flying target is trigonometrically 
calculated. 

We used the string altimeter tho Sgt. Hoffman 
would occasionally try his luck on the tachyscope. 
The real value of the tachyscope was in finding 
engine speed of target or speed and direction of 
wind. Here again the Brock double sight seemed 
superior to the tachyscope for angular speed. 

And so the whole catalogue of anti-aircraft in- 
struments was in a constant state of evolution. 
One instrument of today w^ould be replaced by a 
superior one of tomorrow. Back at Fort de Stains 
our Battery had drilled on the finest struments the 
market could produce but now wnth the semi-fixed 
French battery which Lieut. Dufiie had affiliated 
with we used the available instruments and made 
the most of the situation. 

The range section was composed of the following 
men : Two out-post observers ; two gun position 
observers; two tachyscope readers; two telemeter 
readers; one spotter; one telephone operator; one 
range commander; and the Battery Commander. 
The range section supplied the following data to 
the gun crew : Enemy or allied plane ; azmuth and 



156 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

angle of site ; range ; altitude ; speed and direction 
of target; speed and direction of wind; angle of 
approach. The range or distance of a target was 
called off by the telemeter reader who, knowing the 
altitude, could adjust and read his graduated in- 
strument. 

The angle of approach always was a puzzle for 
us and an equation to be guarded, particularly 
since our flying enemy planes always insisted on 
turning, sidetracking and looping into all sorts of 
directions and keeping us in a constant stew. 

About 25 men are required to man and operate 
an anti-aircraft gun. This includes the range sec- 
tion or source of data, the gun crew proper and 
the machine gun men whose duty it is to protect 
the pit from low-flowing planes. Later, when a 
second gun was placed, it required nearly twice 
the number and so our Battery of a hundred men 
was divided and alternately worked in the field 
and remained in camp. 

Now, before taking up further anti-aircraft 
technique, let us consider a day at the gun-pit. 
The following chapter is also a story copied from 
an old letter. It was written in the pit between 
acts and now as I re-write it I can almost smell 
the powder, and hear the noise of our pet mon- 
ster. 



CHAPTER 37 
A Day at the Gun Pit 

"Time to get out, fellows." Such are the first 
words of the day uttered by the guard. A rude 
awakening, rather, but necessary. Sleepily the 
gun-crew crawls from out their respective bunks 
and in the semi-darkness don their military attire. 
It's chilly out and clear, a good indication that the 
Boche will be out early scouting the skys and look- 
ing for battle. 

A slight breakfast of coffee, sugar and bread 
is served in the kitchen, a sort of an introduction 
to a later breakfast. "Eats" over the crew fall 
in, right face, let's go, and they're off to the gun- 
pit. 

Adown the old familiar path they march, in 
double column, and a few minutes later the camp 
is seen to fade in the dimness of early morn. 
Winding in and out the stately oaks, avoiding 
a small clump of brush here and circling a hollow 
there, the path leads on thru the forest, out thru 
a wide peaceful meadow and over a slight knoll. 

The battery is located in the open but is cleverly 
camouflaged. Strangers approaching the pit are 
surprised to find an innocent clump of brush sud- 
denly transform itself into a pit containing a 
vicious man-made animal, possessing a long jaw 
and an ugly bark. 



158 THEU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

The first period in the pit is spent in keeping 
warm. Perhaps an enemy visitor looms up in the 
sky ahead; perhaps a whole squadrilla. If so the 
crew fly to their respective posts, rush thru data 
and adjust for firing. 

Breakfast time has arrived and another crew is 
coming up the path to relieve the early risers. A 
brisk walk back to camp developes into a run and 
''run, you mess-hounds!" is shouted, the echo re- 
bounding from the distant kitchen as the boys rush 
for mess-tins. Yes, it's double time and a right 
hungry bunch they are ; appetites more powerful 
than Niagara. 

"Eats" over, mess-tins washed, beds made, floors 
swept, the crew once more fall in, right face, let's 
go, and march down the winding path, out over 
the meadow and up the knoll to the gun-pit. 

"Boys, let's make her shine," the gun com- 
mander repeats, and in less time than it takes to 
wink the cotton waste is flying to and fro on brass 
instruments, brooms gather stray debris, oil cans 
are jingling about the iron work feeding the 
hungry joints of the fierce monster, and shell cases 
are fitted and greased. A test of instruments and 
materiel is made and finally the entire crew re- 
port from their respective stations if "in order." 

The range section, stationed several yards to the 
left, is doing likewise and telephonic communica- 
tion completes the tests. The crew and gun being 
in order the commanding officer makes his daily 
round of inspection. Faults are corrected, sug- 
gestions are made and shop talk in general is ex- 
changed. 



A DAY AT THE GUN PIT 159 

All is ready for action. A target may appear 
early and again all may remain quiet for hours; 
the weather decides. On a clear day there is great 
activity, on a cloudy day the men are idle. They 
read whole volumes even, or skim over old mag- 
azines, play "500," et cetera. But the men are 
ever alert, ready for the signal which calls for 
action. 

"Attention! Target BC front," comes ringing 
over the wire. "Azmuth 340°, angle of site 10°". 

"Traverse the gun to the right," repeats the gun 
commander. 

"There he goes," one member of eagle-eye fame 
calls out, and then before it takes time to count 
ten all is ready and, 

"On target!" shouts the pointers. 

' ' In range ! ' ' calls the telemeter reader. 

"Commence firing!" repeats the commanding 
officer. 

The four lines of communication ring with data : 
"azmuth 342°; angle of site 15°; speed 45; alti- 
tude 3000; going minus 45°; altitude 3500 "— 
comes in quick succession. 

"Range 6000!" shouts the telemeter reader. 
The loader has heard the command "commence 
firing," and forthwith receives a shell from the 
fuse cutter's relayer and with dextrous quickness 
rams; it into the breech, closing the recess with a 
clang. The lanyard is pulled by the firer and 
BANG! It's a wicked, deafening, indescribable, 
twanging howl, a monstrous growl more powerful 
than the fiercest call of a South African lion. 



160 THEU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

BLOU-A-NG! She speaks again and amid the 
roar continues the firing data: "Coming plus 45° ; 
plane turning; going minus 75°; change fuse; 
30/55; range 7000." 

Whirl-i-ez-ez-ez out into space the timed ex- 
plosive travels with ''Fritz" written on every shell. 
The fuse has been cut for 7000 and that very range 
she explodes, sending hot steel in every direction. 
Should Fritzie happen near — why — it's a hurried 
trip earthward for him, and a promise of flowers 
later. The powerful ripping destructive agent 
hurled into silken wings and human flesh has but 
one result. A nasty business to contemplate, but 
war is war and the enemy must be conquered. 

The moth that lingers too near the flame is 
burnt; and so 'tis thus that Fritz often comes to 
a bitter end. 

***** 

On the afternoon of the 24th (Sept.), the 7th 
day in Nonsard woods, number one gun-crew under 
command of Lieut. Duflfie went into action. We 
spotted, tracked and fired into a group of seven 
Fokkers and as luck would have it we winged a 
plane. It was our first victim. 

The bird-man fell from a dizzy height and it was 
later at camp that we talked things over and real- 
ized the import of the matter. Perhaps this avia- 
tor's wife or sweetheart was home tonight wait- 
ing his return. Perhaps a child was calling — 
"daddy." Till now we had been silent spectators, 
not a life had we snuffed out, but now, now we 
were guilty of murder. "With our own hands we 



A DAY AT THE GUN PIT 161 

manipulated a death-dealing machine and with 
skill in action had found the mark. But why 
argue — it was war and you know, crime ceases 
to be a crime in warfare. 



CHAPTER 38 
Types of Planes 

Our first victim was flying a Fokker, a plane 
which army men are generally agreed upon as 
being king of the air. It is a very fast traveler, 
a good fighting plane and is a favorite among the 
German Aces. Its general appearance at a distance 
is hawk-like, and our spotters never failed to pick 
up a Fokker however distant the moving target 
or hazy the atmosphere. 

Our second victim was using a Rumpler. Per- 
haps this air-machine is second in popularity with 
the flying Dutchmen. These two types were used 
almost exclusively in our sector. Once or twice 
we spotted an Albatross Dili and the L. V. G. 
Night bombing was carried out by the Giant Gotha, 
and this machine, prior to the advent of the super- 
giant Handley-Page, was preponderant in size and 
poignant with possibilities. 

While training at Fort de Stains we visited the 
La Bourge aviation field several times and on these 
occasions we studied the various Allied planes in- 
timately. The Spad is the Frenchman's favorite. 
Next is the Neuport. Both are fighters. The Eng- 
lish Sop with was quite a favorite with Thomas 
Atkin as was also the Bristol. 

The A. R. (army reconnaissance), Caudron and 
Breguet are larger machines tho all comparatively 
unused in action. Another giant was the Letord, 
used for night bombing. When this machine is 



TYPES OF PLANES 163 

seen flying low it truly reminds one of a battle 
plane as described by fanciful artists. Its slow 
movement and solid features make it appear devoid 
of wings. For such a mass of iron and wood to 
move thru the air is almost uncanny, to say the 
least, and reminds one of receptive fairy tales and 
ancient miracles wrought by superior beings, mas- 
ters of levitation. 

The odd-looking Voison with its open fuselage 
and prominent nose was always a source of amuse- 
ment. The Farnam was another and both were 
used for training only, I believe. 

While in active service at the Front we saw but 
two types of Allied day-planes generally used — the 
Spad and De Haviland, the last named being used 
almost exclusively by the Americans. 

On rare occasions we spotted an Allied stranger. 
For instance, one day word came over the wire that 
a Maroconi Triplane, bimotor, was coming over our 
sector and a warning not to disturb its flight. It 
was further announced that the plane was on its 
way to Berlin to drop a load of propaganda over 
that city. Sure enough a half hour later this 
strange ''bird," soaring high, made its appear- 
ance and flew directly over our position. 

For identification of planes the following terms 
were used: Stagger, reverse stagger, overhang, 
dihedral, cutback, sweepbaek, fuselage, struts, and 
bimotor. It would require a page or two to define 
these terms and this, I fear, would make dry read- 
ing, so I will hurry on with my story. 



CHAPTER 39 
Human Wasps 

In describing our first victim, felled from a 
dizzy height, I rushed over the ground quickly, 
for I fain would not dwell upon the murder of 
another or gloat over a victory. 

But now I call your attention to a flock of 
Boche, seven in number. They are flying high over 
our sector, mere specks as it were, but our instru- 
ments are working and accurate data is gained for 
firing. They come in battle formation, these human 
wasps, and are prepared to sting. They manoeuvre, 
they dart about in the depths of the sky, and one 
is reminded of gold fish performing tactics in a 
parlor aquarium. 

The wasps are now within range, sinking, fall- 
ing, side-slipping. Sgt. Pearson's gun-crew fire. 
The bursting shells in their midst impel keen 
manoeuvring. 

The on-coming squadrilla open up with a mur- 
derous rat-tat-tat. Machine gun companies nearby 
return the fire and the noise is terrific. Rat-tat-tat 
repeated in rapid succession comes crashing thru 
the air. 

There is trouble in the pit — a shell case jams 
in the breach and Sgt. Pearson is almost frantic 
with excitement. Sgt. Miller's machine gun crew 
prepare for action. The impetuous Boche drop 
within a few yards of the terrain, a kilometer over 



HUMAN WASPS 165 

the way and now Sgt. Miller opens wide his double 
Lewis. 

Sgt. Pearson has ejected the jammed shell ease 
but a new difficulty has arisen. "Targets too low 
for tracking," is the verdict from the range sec- 
tion. Pearson directs his crew to fire point blank. 
Are the seven wasps sweeping the landscape of 
human life? They are. The machine guns sta- 
tioned in the forest yonder strive desperately to 
shield a moving column of cavalry, the object of 
contention, and Sgt. Pearson's crew work with 
abated breath. 

And now the white puffs above the tree tops 
split and rend the air and the concussion rocks the 
planes in its furor. 

Number one gun-crew had long since been 
aroused from peaceful meditations and we stand in 
a clearing of the forest near our barracks watching 
the contest. During the interval of Sgt. Pearson's 
failure to break up the filibusters we shout and 
curse at the ill-luck of crew No. 2, and wonder at 
their stupidity. 

But now we hear new reports and see the white 
puffs above the tree tops. The land defense bark 
feverishly — rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat. The anti-air- 
craft gun continues to speak on the fourth second. 

The squadrilla is seen to flinch; they scatter. 
They disperse in all directions and a new wave of 
machine gun rattle is awakened. Damage had 
been wrought in Allied territory; was it fair to 
allow a complete escape ? We w^atch the seven fad- 
ing planes cross the line. Looking into each other's 



166 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

long drawn out faces we slowly but grudgingly 
admit defeat. 

Had the gun-crew been the object of attack 
every man would have been wiped out, but it 
was'nt and our men live to tell the tale. Sgt. 
Miller received a citation for gunnery on this occa- 
sion and I have no doubt his crew (Brazie-Fears- 
Dunbar-Willian) were prime factors in deciding 
for the Boche a hasty get-away. The amount of 
damage inflicted by the Hun on this occasion I 
never discovered, but it was rumored that the loss 
of life was considerable. 

In the evening when Sgt. Pearson and crew re- 
turned to camp there was much chatter and petty 
talk exchanged between the gun-crews. Rivalry 
was keen, especially since No. 1 crew was credited 
with a victory. 

"Scribby," fusecutter for crew No. 1, allowed 
that McQuiston, fusecutter for crew No. 2, was 
just as good a man as he. "Lead" Needham, 
Pearson's prize loader, had them all beat, but Rear 
was rotten on the telescope. And so-and-so wais 
punk or so-and-so was par excellence. 

The usual clash of opinion soon produced a few 
good stump speakers. A group would gather about 
in general conversation, quiet at first, and then as 
a natural result of gossip someone would drop a 
bomb right in the midst of earnest speakers. Im- 
mediately would follow a storm of protest. Cres- 
cendo-like the volume of gutteral sound would in- 
crease and lo ! from out the seething mass steps a 
man — a prophet of the new age and he remarks 



HUMAN WASPS 167 

that the bomb story is right and just, furthermore 
that he himself knew it to be positively a fact. 

Such was Gulick, East, Sterne, Woolaver, Mc- 
Henry, Jester, Emerick. Was it the love of argu- 
ment that prompted the martyr in his debates? 

Corporal Blanky used to "knock 'em dead" with 
his pet hobby : " Is a Marine a superior soldier ? ' ' 
For hours Blanky would hold forth, first in dig- 
nity, later with crisp tongue-twisters, and end in 
boiling rage. "Frog" Foix and "Heinie" Steiler 
were both especially fond of getting Barney's 
"nanny." 

Tom Chase, walking encyclopedia, furnished the 
Battery with much information. So certain was 
Tom of his statements that he was not prone to 
argue. He was a type all his own and later at the 
signing of the armistice Tom told the boys that, 
"Ilavis signed the armifist and now the prolly- 
jectiles were no longer shot in the Ar-gone-on for- 
est." Chase got the idea from a Havis press no- 
tice and attempted to give it in his own language. 

Little Fuller, the mascot of Battery B, had abso- 
lutely nothing to say. Sharp, Pelbrough, "Willian, 
Lyon and Hoslett were all members of the "silent 
club," having no doubt taken their eternal vows 
at birth. 



CHAPTER 40 
Modern Apartments 

American genius went to work the day of our 
arrival in Nonsard woods and not a day passed 
without some improvement being made. Soon our 
shacks became real homelike and modern in every 
way. Steger, ex-cook and plumber, installed an 
excellent shower bath. Upon a recent battlefield 
Steger found a camouflage tank, a large frame- 
work resting on wheels, which was drawn to camp 
and used for the bath-house. A box of fittings, 
several lengths of pipe, an out-door washing 
boiler and stove, a hugh wine tank — all entered 
into the construction of our most excellent and ac- 
ceptable shower. The main pipeline which sup- 
plied water to the kitchen w^as tapped. A good 
wood fire once started heated water for an entire 
crew and the boys often splashed about in all their 
glory. 

What a contrast it was to the little stream over 
in the meadow where we had bathed the first days 
in camp. Sgt. Louis had contracted a severe cold 
in exposing himself to the chill autumn weather 
and others absolutely refused to chance the dip. 

For this new shower we were willing to forgive 
Steger all the misery he had caused us while work- 
ing under him at K. P. To peel a sack of spuds, 
wash a dozen greasy pans, and keep the fire going 
all day was work enough. Ask any ex-soldier. But 
Steger was not content and carried a perpetual 
growl for the K. P.'s benefit. The Battery Com- 



MODERN APARTMENTS 169 

mander reduced him to a private and after that 
Steger braced up; so much so that he put in the 
shower of his own volition, built a new shack for 
Lieut. Duffie and made himself useful generally. 

We added to our comforts very materially a 
short time later. The story is a short one and it 
is this: The Keystone Division camped near us 
a week, then moved on. Upon their unguarded 
divisional supply house our boys descended and 
returned with foodstuffs valued at hundred of dol- 
lars. Sardines, salmon, beans, crackers, white 
sugar, brown sugar, coffee, English biscuit, and 
other eatable things were left behind because of 
shortage in truck space. The divisional supply 
officer had failed to place a guard over the price- 
less foodstuff's and our scouts discovered the fact. 
When Lieut. Duffie saw the situation he ordered 
the kitchen force to haul back to camp as much 
food as possible, but it was too late to stay the 
pillage of youthful wreckers who had cut open 
the reserve rations in their mad rush for the small 
package of cigarettes and sack of sugar which 
Uncle Sam had so temptingly placed in each re- 
serve can. 

Next day an order was posted on the bulletin 
board commanding every private to turn his stock 
into the kitchen, so in order to conceal the loot 
the boys ingeniously hid their groceries in divers 
places. Crew No. 1 was not to be outdone on this 
occasion. The boys removed several boards from 
the floor, excavated a square hole and then, after 
pulling the nails, replaced the boards. The hiding 



170 THEU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

place proved a success and for several weeks the 
boys indulged in midnight suppers. 

Bibby's squad salvaged a piano. "Vic" Ledger- 
ton found a large mahogany bed, a card table worth 
several hundred francs, a fine gold-framed mir- 
ror and several ornamental vases. Others brot to 
camp articles found in their travels about the 
neighborhood. 

So our barracks was added to from day to day. 
The kitchen was overhauled, the Top's office was 
refurnished, carpeted and curtained, a new officers' 
quarters built, board walks placed, fences repaired, 
and finally, a large dining room was erected. 

And so the work went on much the same as an 
ant-hill. "Human ants" scoured the country 
about and brot back to the "hill" every movable 
article, valuable or otherwise. 

It was always a source of pleasure to return to 
our apartments after a busy day at the pit. In a 
very up-to-date manner Collins would make brown 
sugar candy, sugared buns, and brew a little cof- 
fee while we played at 500 over a costly card table. 

Over at Bibby's shack they did the same, except 
style. A solidified alcohol chaffing dish, resting 
on the piano, was used ; surely this was the height 
of fashion. But there was this objection to Bib- 
by 's bunk-house : Everyone smoked. Before the 
evening had run its course you could cut the smoke 
so thick was it, and all windows and doors being 
closed to retain the heat and prevent a stray beam 
of light escaping, there was no outlet. Conse- 
quently the boys' clothing was literally saturated 
in nicotine. 



CHAPTER 41 

Three Letters 

October 6th. 

There is something in the wind; something is 
wrong with Germany. A certain report direct from 
Headquarters was passed along the line and, if 
true, why — the war is over. It is the beginning of 
the end. Perhaps when you receive these lines 
a substantial peace will already have been gained. 
If not peace, near-peace and I know what this 
mens to you at home, dear. We cannot quite com- 
prehend this new departure; we who are fighting 
and know not of peace. We are sceptical. But 
! is it really true that peace is near 1 Can you 
understand what it means to the doughboys and 
artillerymen all along the line? I dare not dwell 
too long on the subject ; it will blind us in our 
work and duties. I must wait for a confirmation 
of what has been received. 

It is growing late. The boys have been wildly 
discussing our home-coming and have already con- 
structed an impossible hypotheses, even; all be- 
cause of the slight bit of news which came over 
the wire this p. m. : " Germany ready to sign an 
armistice. ' ' 

October 20th. 

This morning was reveille as usual ; 6 :30. Break- 
fast at 7 :00 This being No. 1 gun-crew 's fatigue 
day we were out early to gather and cut wood for 
the kitchen. The continuous rain interfered with 



172 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

other duties and so, after an hour's work wielding 
ax and swinging saw, we retired to the Palace. 
Which was well, for at 10 a. m. — what? 

In a wild commotion chairs went flying across 
the room. Other movable articles stirred from 
their accustomed places. A clothes line and 
fresh washing went dragging across the muddy 
floor. Cheers — and howling — and screeching — and, 
what's up? Well, the secret is out — MAIL. 

The crowd gathers quickly, breathless, hatless, 
and with no concern for rain — or shine. It 's mail, 
that's all, and all eyes are centered upon the mail- 
man. Out of the scuffle I emerged with a handful, 
all triumphant and trembling. Mail. Was it a 
dream? No, it was real. This very moment I 
have pinched myself. Yes, I am awake and mail 
was distributed this every morning at 10. It is 
now 6 :30. 

And so having emerged from the throng I 
slipped back to my bunk. I counted, I hesitated. 
Six long weeks without mail ! Why did Uncle 
Sam torture us thus? Fourteen letters, ten from 
you, my darling wife, and four from the folks. 

Gibson received thirty-one. Isn't that a hand- 
ful? 

I would clear away the singles first. Then I 
fingered the precious ten. I counted them and 
then — recounted them; and then placed them, un- 
opened, in my left shirt pocket. 

Out from my shelf came a fresh suit of under- 
wear, a pair of white sox, towel and soap. The 
bath was refreshing and the letters and I returned 



THREE LETTERS 173 

to the bunk. With shoes removed I sat Yogi fash- 
ion upon my blue blanket. I unbuttoned my shirt 
pocket and relieved my heart of its pressure. Ten 
letters. The dates were scattered but soon that was 
adjusted. With letter opener in hand I listened 
to the rain ; why should I rush to open the precious 
ten after six long weeks of waiting? 

I sat Yogi fashion and the rain came pat-pat-er- 
ing. It seemed to be a song filled with ancient 
memories. As it is one of my greatest pleasures 
to read while music fills the air, I opened the let- 
ters — pat-pat-er-ing — and read. 

October 28th. 

This afternoon a Boche, flying very high, crost 
our lines, braved the anti-aircraft fire and emptied 
a load of propaganda. The glistening sheets float- 
ing upon a gentle breeze seemed to tarry in the 
downward flight. We were on the gun at the time 
and the little beggars fell in our midst. I enclose 
a copy: 

"The German People Offer Peace 
The New German democratic government has this 

programme : 
'The Will of the People is the Highest Law' 
The German people wants quickly to end the 

slaughter 
The New German popular government therefore 

has offered an Armistice 
And had declared itself ready for 

Peace 
on the basis of justice and reconciliation of na- 
tions. 



174 THRU THE FIEES OF FRANCE 

It is the will of the German people that it should 
live in peace with all peoples, honestly and loyally. 
What has the New German popular government 
done so far to put into practice the will of the 
people and to prove its good and upright intentions? 

(a) The New German government has accepted all 
the principles which Pres. Wilson proclaimed as a 
basis for a general lasting peace of justice among 
Nations. 

(b) The New German government has solemnly 
declared its readiness to evacuate Belgium and to 
restore it. 

(c) The New German government is ready to come 
to an honest understanding with France about 

Alsace-Lorraine 

(d) The New German government has restricted 
the U-boat war 

No Passenger steamers not 
Carrying Troops or war material 
will be attacked in the future. 

(e) The New German government has declared 
that it will withdraw all German troops back over 
the German Frontier. 

(f) The New German government has asked the 
Allied Governments to name commissioners to agree 
upon the practical measures of evacuation of Bel- 
gium and France. 

These are the deeds of the New German popular 
government. 

Can these be called mere words, or bluff, or pro- 
paganda ? 
Who is to blame, if an armistice is not called now ? 



THEEE LETTERS 175 

Who is to blame if daily, thousands of brave sol- 
diers needlessly have to shed their blood and die? 
Who is to blame if the hitherto undestroyed towns 
and villages of France and Belgium sink in ashes ? 
Who is to blame, if hundreds of thousands of un- 
happy women and children are driven from their 
homes to hunger and freeze? 
THE GERIVrAN PEOPLE OFFERS ITS HAND 

FOR PEACE. 

* * * * 

On the reverse side is printed the same in 
French : Le peiiple allemand offre la Paix. 

There is unusual American artillery activity to- 
night which is, no doubt, the answer. Notice the 
"New German government" (with the small g). 
This is so' much effort wasted. Of course the clumsy 
mind of the German High Command imagines that 
a sheet of printed matter will wreck the morale of 
our troops. Every American not only is acquainted 
with causes and conditions of this war, but also 
receives exact and unadulterated news concerning 
developments. For instance, Ludendorf resigns; 
we knew this fact before our paper reached us. 

I tell you, it is the unanimous consent of the 
men who are actually in battle that this war shall 
continue until unconditional surrender, nothing 
less, shall be realized. 

It is every dark now and there is intense artil- 
lery fire along the Front. But in the Palace it is 
quite comfortable. There is a fire in the stove 
which radiates a comfortable heat. The boys are 
reading, writing, talking, and unusually quiet. I 



176 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

am writing on a smooth board which is resting 
on either side of my boarded bunk. An empty 
hand grenade with rope wick burning gasoline is 
my source of light. 

I am thinking of home and you, dear. Wouldn't 
it be wonderful if I could walk in on you tonight 
and talk with you just five minutes? It would 
be a great privilege. 



CHAPTER 42 
Our Second Plane 

On Friday, October 18, at 4 p. m. we were brot 
to a high pitch of excitement when a Rumpler was 
spotted by our men sailing along just above the 
tree tops. Without command from Lieutenant 
Brush we swung the gun around and began firing 
point blank. The enemy had slipped up unawares 
and was flying so low that the range section could 
not furnish the required data. Let us return to 
the thrilling incident. 

The plane is coming on. Sgt. Miller, the iron- 
monger, points his double Lewis in the invader's 
face. What is wrong? A shell jams. Miller curses 
the luck while we swing our piece. The enemy flies 
over our position. We can see two men in the 
fuselage. Why do they not use the machine gun, 
the barrel of which is protruding over the edge of 
the observer's pit? The plane is now flying down 
the field. Sgt. Miller opens up at last and tracer 
bullets make a path to the Rumpler. 

We fire again. The range is estimated, but the 
explosions are deadly near. Why does not the 
enemy land and avoid destruction? In another 
moment we would surely find the mark. McHenry 
shoves in the shells on the fourth second and 
Thompson pulls the lanyard with repeated vigor. 
Sgt. Fleck is estimating the firing data, for now 
confusion has gripped the range section. The 



178 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

plane turns and makes an attempt to reach the line. 
Our white puffs are telling. Another second and 
the plane would be blown to bits. Suddenly the 
pilot points the nose of his plane downward forty- 
five degrees and makes a hurried landing within 
our lines. 

We later learned that a fragment of a bursting 
shell case had pentrated the gasoline feed and 
forced the aviator to land. Two men were cap- 
tured; an Austrian Captain and a German ser- 
geant. They had ascended over their lines an hour 
before to observe their own camouflaged positions 
and had lost their way. Once estray they groped 
about for guidance, but instead of friendly advice 
they were accorded a hearty reception and a 
shower of steel. 

We never knew why the observer refused to use 
his deadly machine gun. Sgt. Miller's accident 
and our delay in swinging the gun gave the enemy 
an excellent chance to fire a few healthy rounds. 

The next morning an aero squad salvaged the 
captured plane and on their return to the rear 
stopped at our gun position. Many bullet holes 
had penetrated the checkered wings and it seemed 
to us a miracle that neither pilot nor observer had 
been killed or wounded. 

Our Battery received official credit for this sec- 
ond and last plane a week later; and now the Bat- 
talion was credited with five planes which set a 
new record for anti-aircraft work. One plane in 
10,000 shots was the old record; we brot it down 
to one plane in 500. 



OUR SECOND PLANE 179 

Considering the difficulty of aircraft work this 
is a good average and later Colonel Perkins, Com- 
mander of air forces, Second Army, A. E. F., men- 
tioned our work especially in an official communi- 
cation to General Pershing, 



CHAPTER 43 

Balloon A-fire 

A Fokker succeeded in burning Balloon No. 69 
on October SOth, and a more thrilling and dare- 
devil stunt I have never seen. It was late in the 
afternon. We were in camp and several boys and 
myself were industriously working in our front- 
yard laundry. Enemy planes had been flying over 
all day but all flew at an extreme height, better 
than 10,000 meters. The boys were observing a 
group of seven Fokkers when one plane detached 
itself from the group and disappeared deep in our 
back lines. 

I was washing away peacefully when suddenly 
a cry went up in the camp. I looked up and 
there, just above the trees at arms length, it seemed, 
was the sly Fokker. The wings were silken white 
except for the maltese crosses which were pure 
red, and a disfigurement to the plane, I thot. 

An observation balloon was stationed a half mile 
back of our camp; we quickly guessed the culprit's 
errand. Why did I not have a rifle in my hand? 
It seemed a simple matter to pump a few rounds 
into the plane so near. 

Fritz was clever. Having disappeared into the 
back lines he shut off his motor and noiselessly vol- 
planed back on the rays of the sun unobserved. 
But now the rat-tat-tat of machine guns surround- 
ing the balloon opened up with a cyclonic violence. 
Sgt. Pearson's crew began firing a barrage. Had 



BALLOON AFIRE 181 

the Boche expected such a reception? Was he 
prepared to withstand the fire ? "We watch him in 
his cyclic movements and are prepared to see him 
dashed to earth the next instant. 

The two balloon observers have jumped — they 
are drifting to earth. Fritzie ventures near and 
opens up with incendiary shells. We can see the 
flaming projectiles flying thru space. His first 
effort proves a failure and, making a figure eight, 
Fritz comes head on firing as before. This time 
the gas-bag is ignited Snd quickly drops to earth 
in flames passing the frail silken parachutes of the 
descending observers on its way. 

Fritz has done his work but is now threatened 
with an added wave of machine gun bullets. The 
anti-aircraft bursts rend the air and the concus- 
sion rocks the plane in its flight. 

The moment is tense and fraught with possibili- 
ties. We reach a clearing in the woods, bare-headed 
and breathless. Fragments of shell-cases whistle 
past and drop at our feet, but curiosity far out- 
rides all sense of danger. We cheer for Fritzie, 
tho we recognize the law of retribution. Over our 
head he flies and is soon out of reach of the bal- 
loon's protective machine guns. Sgt. Pearson's 
fire is continued, but the impetuous bird-man 
proves illusive. He is now headed for the lines 
and defiantly passes directly over our gun position. 
In the interim Sgt. Pearson smngs his gun and 
then plants a few shells on the retiring plane's 
tail. But try as they did, No. 2 crew could not 
reach their mark. 



182 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

Suddenly two Spads drop out of the sky. They 
have been drawn to the scene of action and seek to 
pounce down upon the victorious Hun. They rid- 
dle the air with machine gun bullets and appar- 
ently the game is up. But no, even this latest at- 
tempt at the life of the Fokker fails and we watch 
Fritzie disappear over his line in safety. 

The boys were agreed that had the plane been 
downed with the pilot escaping alive, we would 
have shaken him by the hand and said, "Well 
done, brave lad, we admire your nerve." 

On another day two planes came over the line 
and when within range we began firing. Their 
close liaison gave us a better target and our shells 
exploded deadly near. 

One plane made a sudden plunge forward. What 
is that dangling speck? It's a human being. 0! 
what a ghastly sight. Down — down to earth, then 
a silent journey to other realms. 

The plane righted itself and flew back to the 
lines. We later argued that a piece of shrapnel 
had found its mark, causing the pilot to loose his 
balance temporarily and perhaps also severing the 
strap which held the observer, thereby throwing 
him in the plunge. 

I am reminded of a scene as recorded by Theo. 
Roosevelt, the big-game hunter: A lion, ferocious 
and maddened by a gun-shot wound, came tearing 
thru the brush. Roosevelt stood his ground and 
then, as the beast neared his victim, our mighty 
hunter sent one crashing shot into the very jaws 



BALLOON AFIRE 188 

of the on-rushing monster. The lion staggered, 
then fell, but the momentum carried the beast to 
the very feet of Teddy, This was sport de luxe. 

Of the two, which can be called the greater 
"sport?" 



CHAPTER 44 

Human Nature 

Sgt. Hisey's crew No. 3, under command of 
Lieut. Brush, left the Battery on detached service. 
They returned from Pannes later, whither they 
had gone to hold down a French position tempor- 
arily and to relieve the crew, many of whom were 
sick. Now the greetings that passed between the 
boys on their return was good to see. Glad to be 
with the Battery once more, the boys celebrated 
with a clean shave (oh! how that ten-days growth 
pulled), a bath and clean clothing. The cooks, un- 
der Mess Sgt. Gilbert, prepared an extra good meal 
which was devoured almost in gluttony. 

Then began the tales of their adventure and 
everyone talked well into the night. Well, to tell 
the truth Sgt. Hisey had a bit to say. The first 
night out the Germans put a hump in things. 
Wicked shells fell all around them and Lieut. 
Brush was in favor of moving. But the boys de- 
cided to risk the dugouts and remain. One shell 
fragment tore a corner out of Gulick's kitchen. 
For ten days the boys worked under difficulties. 

As is natural among Yanks the usual comedy 
came into the conversation for more than its 
share, with the result that poor Schriber, Kuhnle 
and "Snapper" Ingram occupied a humiliating 
position in the social order of things. It seemed 
that the first night at Pannes, when the shells were 
dropping near, Kuhnle, in a drawl and jagged 



HUMAN NATURE 185 

voice, would invariably remark, "That — was — a — 
go-od — one." The upshot of the matter was that 
Kuhnle received the beautiful title, "Coon — 
(pause) — nelly." Thru constant repetition Kuhnle 
soon learned to take his new name in a matter-of- 
fact way. 

"Snapper," on the other hand, refused to de- 
part from his tin '"derby" or helmet. Day and 
night, in work or sleep, "Snapper" wore his tin 
hat. Soldiers generally are averse to weakness or 
timidity and because "Snapper" was over cau- 
tious, perhaps, the boys made him an object of 
their balderdash and jargon. One is here reminded 
of Darwin's, "survival of the fittest; and natural 
selection." In active warfare you swim with the 
crowd or sink as "Snapper" did weighted down 
with his tin-lid. 

The following day, after returning to camp, 
"Snapper" wore his helmet around camp to our 
great astonishment, for long since had we replaced 
the helmet with our little convenient over-seas cap. 
We were willing to chance the game to obtain com- 
fort, especially since Fritz had failed to locate 
our position. 

Bill Schrieber's ebullient spirit and prying nat- 
ure led him estray one day. Finding a queer- 
looking German rocket upon the battle-field. Bill 
proceeded to have some fun. Igniting the rocket 
it shot into the air and exploded. Now in the ordi- 
nary course of events such a proceeding would 
have passed unnoticed, except that Bill was' tak- 
ing a long chance on the rocket and consequently 
his life. 



186 THKU THE FIEES OF FRANCE 

Biz-ez-ez-ez-BANG. A shell from the enemy 
lines. Another report, another shell. Bill struck 
for camp with lightning speed. He had drawn 
the enemy's fire. For this infringement, Schrei- 
ber was threatened with a court-martial. Bill's 
punishment never came to pass, but the experi- 
ence had a satiable effect upon his prying nature. 



CHAPTER 45 
Plain Racket 

Every night at the Front was a noisy one and 
we soon accustomed ourselves to the nightly racket. 
From the Argonne Woods down the line to Pont- 
a-Mousson and beyond came the drum-fire and 
bombardment of a million cannon. 

On guard in the dead of night with naught but 
yourself, the star shells and artillery drum-fire 
for company, one is tempted to wish that he were 
home in peace and safety. While all are retired 
and in dreamland you walk your post alone. Per- 
haps a stranger comes out of the blackness of 
night. You halt him and ask, "Who goes there?" 

If a friend calls out you advance him to be 
recognized. The gun and bayonet held firmly in 
position gives a sense of protection. Perhaps our 
friend has lost his way or is looking for some loca- 
tion. He passes out into the night and once more 
you are alone with your thots. Alone, yet in the 
very midst of activity. 

Every nerve in your body is alert. Hearing be- 
comes abnormal and you learn to recognize sound 
in its manifold nature. You know in an instant 
whether a shell is coming or going and can gauge 
its flight accurately. I have listened for hours, 
in the dead of night, to the interplay of shot and 
shell. If a shell is headed your way you soon dis- 
cover the fact and without ceremony flatten out on 
the ground. A bursting shell throws its fragments 



188 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

outwards and upwards so one is comparatively safe 
flattened out if the shot is not a direct hit. If 
the bursting charge is hollow-like it is a gas bomb 
and immediately you adjust the gas-mask, which 
is worn at all times, and then give the alarm thru 
the Klaxon. 

All large troop movements were made under 
cover of darkness. I have heard the tramp, tramp, 
tramp of a million feet and the bang and clang of 
moving artillery. Hour after hour in the dim 
hours of morn, artillery and infantry passed upon 
the highway and as the last van-guard faded in the 
distance an immense drum-fire would break out. 
Then would follow, at dawn, a rolling salvo inter- 
spersed with macliine gun rattle — a mingled har- 
mony well known to doughboys. 

If by some miracle one could have gone to the 
scene in an aerial carriage, he would have wit- 
nessed, perhaps, a local engagement, with Fritz 
and the Yanks holding a disputation over a piece 
of real estate. In this manner the Yanks were 
continuously harassing the enemy, biting into new 
territory and consolidating old. 

Without doubt, the night raiding dreadnaughts, 
the Gothas, furnished much anxiety as regards per- 
sonal safety. Ask Chase. On a clear night they 
would come over the lines buzzing in our ears 
and we were certain, positively certain, that the 
droning plane was circling directly above our 
camp. I can remember how the boys, myself in- 
cluded, w^ould draw the blankets gracefully over 
their heads much the same as children do when 
frightened by a darkened room. 



PLAIN RACKET 189 

If an "egg" had been dropped thru the roof 
of our barracks, I can assure you, dear reader, that 
a blanket would have been no protection, rather 
you would have gathered around a gaping hole 
m the earth the next morning wondering how the 
shack had disappeared. For I call your attention 
to the fact that aerial torpedoes sometimes gorged 
a hole in the landscape so large that a horse at 
the bottom of the crater would have appeared as 
a cat by comparison. 



CHAPTER 46 

' ' Deacon, " " Silent ' ' and I 

Excursion parties on foot were a familiar sight 
around Nonsard Woods. While off duty the boys 
were allowed to go wherever they chose. ' ' Curly 
Best, "Vic" Ledgerton and others made a trip to 
the front line trenches near St. Benoit. Sgt. 
Gilbert and party went as far as Thiacourt in the 
Battery's truck. Powers, Fuller, Sharp, Ledger- 
ton and I walked over to Vigneulles, tho we re- 
fused to climb the hill when we arrived at its base. 
Fresh second line trenches had been completed the 
week before and we wondered at the wisdom of 
wasting so much wire and labor, especially since 
the Hun army was so completely disintegrating. 
The trench communications and equipment were 
complete in every detail and it dawned upon me 
then and there how thoro and business-like the 
Yanks were carrying on the war. 

One day ''Deacon," "Silent" and I planned 
an excursion to the nearest canteen, Y. M. C. A. or 
otherwise, whither we went in search of chocolate 
and sweet things. One lonely Y. M. C. A. wagon 
passed our camp during the two months so you 
see we were in dire straits as regard toothsome 
food. Upon returning to camp in the evening I 
sat down and wrote a short essay and I here re- 
copy it for your pleasure : 

"Deacon," "Silent" and I left camp at one 
o'clock midday. According to military require- 



"DEACON," "SILENT" AND I 191 

ments we wore the regulation uniform, knit sweater, 
gas-mask slung over the right shoulder and rest- 
ing on the left hip, cane and gloves to match. 
Our destination was the nearest canteen, Y. M. 
C. A. or otherwise, where chocolate, jam and 
other toothsome food is sold. And incidentally 
we planned to plunder a deserted shack or two 
and scout for valuables on our way. 

So we started out, the sun high in the heavens 
and a good breeze that filled the lungs to over- 
flowing. In these parts there are forests galore; 
trees, trees and more trees. Old "Deacon" takes 
to the road and we're off thru the forest and the 
camp is lost to the eye in a twinkling. 

" It 's a whole hog and a biscuit ! Anyone else ? 
Boys, they're hot and a heatin' — only a dime, the 
smallest part of a dollar — anyone else?" 

No, we haven't come to a carnival — its only 
"Deac," trying out his voice in view of returning 
to his old job down at Coney Isle. His voice echoes 
thru the forest and we're laughing to split, one 
of those good old side-splitters that makes one 
gasp for breath, "Silent" has little to say but 
joins the fun. 

The canteen in question is several kilometers 
over at a French village "in this direction," as 
one M. P, advised, but it is in "that direction" 
ventures another. We travel on watching the 
mile-stones and keeping a peeled eye for valuables, 
for it's the old stamping ground of Fritz that we 
cover in our walk. 

Thru an opening in the dense forest we come 



192 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

upon a sector of trenches. We stand in the midst 
of terrible memories ; where doughboys fought and 
bled; where democracy fought autocracy and won. 
At one spot the crevices in the earth formed the 
letter E and I was tempted to think that Father 
Time had traced the second letter of the word 
PEACE as a token of encouragement for strug- 
gling and sorrowing humanity. 

There are tank tracks and the numerous paths 
wind thru barbed-wire entanglements, over 
trenches, and across the battlefield. Bits of hand 
grenades are scattered about and here and there is 
seen the familiar German helmet. Gun-pits, dug- 
outs, snipers' posts, communication trenches, tele- 
phone wires and all the accessories of warfare en- 
gage our attention as we travel on. Across the 
small valley is a series of foothills and from our 
station we discover a town nestled cozily on a side 
hill. We decide that a canteen is there and so 
strike out over the broad green meadows and 
fields; fields that have not known the plough in 
four years. 

Here and there on the battle-scarred soil of 
France, in territory sacred to lovers of Joan of 
Are, is evidence of Hun thoroness. At one place 
we came upon a desolate building which had been 
wrecked and fired; upon this ruin a shell had 
lately fallen throwing the fresh under-earth over 
the burnt area, giving to the scene a gruesome 
aspect as tho a mourner had recently decorated a 
neglected grave with fresh flowers. Destruction 
over destruction is more than the human heart 
can understand. 



' ' DEACON, " " SILENT ' ' AND I 19S 

At length we reach the village (Buxieres). 
Already the civilian population had commenced to 
habitate their old shell-wrecked homes and to our 
surprise we discover that women and children are 
down at the village laundry. To a soldier in the 
field the gentler folk are a curiosity, to say the 
least. We hungrily fed our souls in their presence. 
Every true soldier returning to the States and 
home will be generous in courtesy and will have 
a heartier consideration for the better sex. Pie 
will worship his sisters in a degree heretofore un- 
known. 

0! what a desolate, useless, God-forsaken spot 
where SPIE is not in evidence ; where SHE neither 
comes nor goes, nor laughs, nor revels in the com- 
pany and joy of souls more tender in age. 

Suddenly "Deacon" remembers that we have 
come for "eats" and stirs "Silent" and I from out 
a deep reverie. 

"Quoi direction est la kantine, sil vous plait?" 
we venture in broken French to a passing brother 
soldier. 

"La, la!" and more French that we took for 
granted, this soldier offered, accompanied with a 
bow that bordered onto a curtsy. 

Canteen found we proceed to smack our lips 
and prepare for sweet tootsie-wootsies — baby food 
a la carte, minus knife, fork and spoon, and man- 
ners. 

"What have you for sale," we ask the French- 
man, for it happened that the only canteen in town 
was French. 



194 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

"No compre," he returns with a shrug of his 
shoulders, and we revert to the ancient mode of 
communication. With finger signs we discover 
that he has canned goods. For instance, there is 
sahnon (gold-fish), tripe, roast beef and other 
products of the once living, now dead and offered 
for sale. In these commodities we are not inter- 
ested. And to our utter disappointment the sup- 
ply of chocolate, confecture and jam was ex- 
hausted. 

Doggedly we about faced and traced our way 
up the picturesque village street, passed officers 
and soldiers representing many nations, gave the 
women and children one last homesick glance, and 
Avere winding our way thru the under-brush of 
the side hill. 

On our return to camp we crost a few vine- 
yards. Clusters of sour grapes were still clinging 
to withered barren vines. These we plucked and 
hungrily ate. ' ' Not bad, ' ' was the unanimous opin- 
ion of "Deacon," "Silent" and I. 

As a consequence of shells coming and going 
there are but few moments of quietness and secur- 
ity on the Front. However, the constant shelling 
from either side is such a commonplace affair that 
the noise has ceased to startle. But hush ! Listen ! 
something rings in the ear and freezes the very 
blood in the veins! Every emotion known to man 
vibrates in one symphonic harmony. Hush! 

No — 'tis not shell, nor destruction, nor death, 
but a beautiful old-fashioned melody that comes 
floating on the wings of the evening breeze; a 
clarionet duet from a camp yonder. 



' 'DEACON, " " SILENT ' ' AND 1 195 

Tell me that the spiritual in man is not; tell 
me that the physical is supreme, and I am deaf, 
for my soul cannot hear these things. But whis- 
per to me that Providence is near, that the inner 
man IS and my ear is yours. 

We flew home, at dusk, on the wings of song. 



CHAPTER 47 
Days of Fun 

Theatrical stunts, both professional and home 
talent, helped pass away the time. Down at Bal- 
loon No, 69 you would find the boys every Friday 
night. Good vaudeville, direct from New York, 
was staged and directed by real show people who 
had come to France to do their bit; "Professional 
War-Actors' Association," or some such title. 

The Balloon men had converted a large German 
barracks into a modern showhouse. A double en- 
trance prevented escaping lamp-light and every 
crack and crevice was sought out and stuffed, 
making the house appear as an integral part of 
the landscape in the blackness of night. However, 
the closed conditions harbored foul air and the 
copious tobacco smoke from a hundred cigarettes 
made one somnolent to the point of sleep ere the 
evening had run its course. But the vaudeville 
stunts were to the American's liking and the boys 
often returned to camp with mental cornucopias. 
Nicotine abstainers usually remained home for 
convenience, not pleasure. 

Quite a dramatic yet anxious moment came one 
Friday evening at the showhouse. A sketch was 
in progress when suddenly a group of night raid- 
ers stormed our position and began dropping their 
deadly missiles. Just over the v>ay an explosion 
belched forth flame and steel and yet with all the 
disturbance the actors continued in their roles. 



DAYS OF FUN 197 

finishing just as the last explosion died away. It 
was a trying moment, but soldier-like our enter- 
tainers carried the full program on to its con- 
clusion. 

In the Palace one evening the boys put on a 
3-act show, and Captain Duffie (promoted) and 
Lieutenant Brush were invited. Wayne Huffman 
played two good selections on his steel guitar, a 
guitar by the way, of unique appearance, having 
names, dates and places carved over every inch 
of its surface. Upon the strings of this guitar 
Wayne played with such feeling that we involun- 
tarily closed our eyes and floated on the wings of 
Hawaiian melody to that little island out in the 
Pacific, there to meet and sing with dream people, 
there to join the nature spirit dance and witness 
the holy incantations to gods and men who dwell 
in Paradise. 

We were later rudely awakened and dragged 
from the sublime to the ridiculous. "Bart" and 
"Crum" staged a monkey and organ-grinder 
scene. The monkey was well imitated and w^e cheer- 
fully gave our offerings. 

Old "Deacon" Powers livened things up with 
a mimic auction sale. "Dec" can put more words 
into a second of time and can talk longer and 
louder in a single breath than any one I have ever 
met. In a casual conversation with "Dec" you al- 
ways laugh but to hear him in an auction-tirade is 
to split your sides and I can now vividly recall 
Capt. Duffie and Lieut. Brush both con^ailsed in 
laughter, the Captain almost sliding off his chair 
in helplessness. 



198 THEU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

When "Dec" winds up for business he never 
cracks a smile. In a forceful, continuous, almost 
automatic style he sold a Guernsey cow in this 
fashion, the following being but a fraction of his 
words : 

"There she is, boys; look her over. How much 
am I bid? Do I hear 50? 50, who'll make it 60? 
50, who's make it 60? Look her over, boys, she's 
cow from her horns to her tail. Wide between 
the eyes, shows lots of intelligence. She's got 
an udder on her like a barrel with a teat on every 
corner. Do I hear 60? 60, who'll make it 70? 
60, who'll make it 70? 60 and 10 to go. 60 and 
10 to go. Do I hear 70 ? Boys, she 's a good look- 
er, a high hooker. She'll make you butter and 
give you her young, feed your family and double 
your income. Do I hear 70? Do I hear 70? Going 
at 70. I'll sell her for 70. Going at 70. So 
help me God, up goes the hammer, pop goes the 
weasel — and sold, for 70." 

"Deacon" gave a sidewalk handkerchief sale 
next and finished the evening with a side show an- 
nouncement, "Lonzo Lorenzo — he eats 'em alive!" 
As long as I live I shall never forget old "Dec" 
(Luverne C. Powers), merrymaker and friend ex- 
cellence. 

To mention comedy is to remember the fun out 
at the gun-pit. Oft times we would wander out 
to the pit to watch the French at work. Unlike 
the Americans, who remained in position all day, 
the French would retire to their bunks about 200 
feet over at the edge of the forest, leaving a spot- 



DAYS OF FUN 199 

ter on the job. Suddenly a Boche would appear 
from nowhere and then the excitement and the 
hullabaloo would begin. Answering the general 
alarm, Frenchmen could be seen emerging from 
the forest half clad and straining every muscle 
in their endeavor to reach the gun position. If 
the call was most urgent, cries of vite! vite! 
(quickly) could be heard and then the scramble 
would begin. While it was a loss to the general 
efficiency of the Allied armies for these French to 
employ such loose methods, a fact that we de- 
plored, still their acts furnished much amusement 
for us. 

The Battery Commander (French) was a like- 
able fellow. He would visit us practically every 
day while on duty and several times returned to 
camp to partake of a real Am-erican dinner. The 
boys would accost the Captain with, "How are you 
today r ' In reply he would say, ' ' Three beans on 
silver plate," Now, to hear a Frenchman repeat 
this simple phrase is comical, and every overseas 
soldier will tell you so. The mystery is this : 
Tries hein si'l vous plait (very well, if you please) 
was remade to suit the Yank and all over France 
today you will hear, "Three beans on silver plate." 

Still another source of comedy was Neustead, 
the mighty hunter, who went forth into the wilds 
of Nonsard woods one day and returned with a 
"ferocious" animal. A poor army horse, gassed 
and in a state of collapse, had been turned into 
pacture to recover as best it could. Upon this 
beast of burden Neustead pounced and returned to 
camp with his prey. By gentle treatment the beast 



200 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

slowlj'- recovered. Later Neustead salvaged a wagon, 
harness and hay, reclaimed a stable and was soon 
running errands for the Captain. 

''Auk" Sterne was recognized as the Battery 
glutton. You could always depend on Sterne re- 
turning to the serving table for seconds, thirds and 
fourths, even. In the field all food is served cafe- 
teria style, so the first group of men in line have 
their choice of the food being served. Unusual 
racket always attended every meal and at the first 
stroke of the gong all men grabbed their mess-tins 
and scattered pell-mell into line. To be first in 
line was to be first served with an excellent chance 
to finish in time to follow up the line for a second 
helping. It was always a problem for the mess 
sergeant to feed all men alike and in spite of his 
careful observations and strict rules a few men 
always received more than their share. 

The boys would watch the cooks hawk-like and 
if something extra was announced, after the main 
meal had been served, fleeting feet and rattling 
mess-tins was the answer. 

Crumrine sat with his back to the serving table 
one day. Several men passed him on the run. 
This was well known language to "Crum," for he 
deciphered the meaning in an instant and followed. 
Upon returning to the table with an empty plate 
I asked the reason. "Giving out spuds," was his 
answer. Now "Crum" was not interested in plain 
potatoes, in fact he did not know just what he 
wanted but someone was running, and like the 
lamb had followed. 



CHAPTER 48 

Censored Mail 

On October 26th Lieutenant Samuel R. Dows 
returned to our Command and Lieut. Brush went 
to Headquarters, Aircraft Service, 2nd Army, at 
Toul, to act as Adjutant to Colonel Perkins. With 
the advent of Dows trouble began. By way of ex- 
planation let it be known that Sam Dows was a 
lad of 22 summers or thereabouts. Now that this 
fact is known what follows will be perfectly com- 
prehensible. 

Every army man has had occasion to blame the 
censor for meddling with his innermost thots. 
Many lads omitted the better part of their senti- 
ments in letters home just because the Captain or 
Lieutenant of his company or battery had the right 
by law to read his mail. This barrier was un- 
surmountable for some and as a consequence the 
folks at home received scraps of paper which could 
hardly be termed real letters. 

When I wrote Mrs. Stone I held back nothing 
and in ten and twenty page letters once per week 
I wrote the best that I could offer— love, sacrifice, 
philosophy. Yet, for my pains Lieut. Dows called 
me to his office and gently but firmly informed 
me that I was writing too much. Very well, I 
was content to reduce the number of pages per 
letter, but listen ! Our great and learned academ- 
ician proposed that I straighten out some of my 
philosophy ; that I cease from my insane and bom- 



202 THKU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

bastic railing. Since when had the army imposed 
this latest shackle? Was my God-given right to 
think to be seized upon and dwarfed ? No, not so, 
and I shot back straight from the shoulder, with a 
piercing glare, a question, "Will the Lieutenant 
explain whereof I have offended his philosophical 
interpretation of life?" He passed the question 
off to a slight technical army phrase in my letter 
with. an affable meekness that quite amused me. 

Ingram and Woolaver had been called to the 
office for a similar offense. Their letters home 
were too numerous was Dows only complaint, and 
this was soon adjusted satisfactorily — as far as 
Dows was concerned. 

My next letter home was written seven days 
before the signing of the armistice. It was in- 
tended for Dows' eyes but before I could mail the 
letter in the Battery's office Woolaver and I were 
transferred to Headquarters at Toul. The letter 
was given to Lieut. Brush, now Captain, who re- 
turned it requesting that I tear out a page which 
"seemed to reflect upon a brother officer," he 
said. I did, and saved the page which I here re- 
copy: 

* * * This week we came to a final under- 
standing regarding mail. Four letter per man per 
week was suggested as quite sufficient. Assuming 
that each letter contains a full sheet of four pages 
it would total sixteen pages per week. Now de- 
pend on it, you shall have sixteen pages from your 
husband each week, 

A series of ambiguous statements from men of 



CENSORED MAIL 203 

this command leads me to remark that I may be 
dictated to in regard to the amount of reading 
matter I shall write, but by my God I hurl my 
pen with defiance into the face of any man who 
dictates to me or even suggests as to WHAT I shall 
write, statistics and geography of military matters 
excepted. I understand the necessity of limited 
freedom in the army but I cannot quite under- 
stand the apparent new departure of curtailing 
freedom of thot. I am a soldier of the United 
States Army and that is something; that is my 
protection. 

Into the crucible of war have been east the dross 
and scum of life and let the melting pot be fur- 
ther added to by the empty brains of those all- 
wise beings who propose to crush all they do not 
understand. I think this is sufficient. * * * 



CHAPTER 49 
Last Days of the War 

The Diorning Woolaver and I left camp all was 
quiet and peaceful. No. 1 gun-creAv was at the pit, 
the kitchen force was busily engaged in preparing 
the noon meal, and the remaining men were fol- 
lowing their usual pursuits. At this moment we 
were totally ignorant of the peace negotiations 
which were destined to reach maturity six days 
later. We were inclined to congratulate ourselves 
upon leaving the Front for territority free from 
shot and shell ; from German-made barracks to a 
regular French garrison ; from mud to pavement ; 
from a violent occupation to one more peaceful 
in nature. 

As we went spinning along the highway we re- 
turned, in thot, to the camp and wondered how 
the boys would brave the elements during the win- 
ter. Already the sun was drawing near its south- 
ern goal, the Tropic of Capricorn, making the 
nights long and the weather cold. From our posi- 
tion (45° north) it seemed that Old Sol reached 
the apex of his daily ascent at 8 a. m. and then 
remained suspended in the mid-heaven till 4 in 
the afternoon. 

Winter had come. The oaks were practically 
bare and golden brown leaves carpeted the sur- 
rounding woods. Our feathered comrades were in 
the south, having gone thither in quest of a sunny 
clime. In the early morn it was quite cold but 



LAST DAYS OF THE WAR 205 

refreshing. Ice formed over all water surfaces 
and one morning the landscape was so frosted it 
had the appearance of snow. Usually it was 
cloudy and altogether quite lifeless and bleak. 

On this morning, however, the sun was bright 
and the air fresh. We breathed deeply, my friend 
and 1, for old time's sake, as we dashed forward 
over blood-stained roads. 

At Headquarters Company we stopped, a half 
hour later, to transfer to a large truck. We found 
ourselves now in company with four other men, 
all detailed for work at Headquarters in Toul. 

While all were standing about waiting for din- 
ner, a nearby battery broke the silence and sent a 
ripping shell out into space. We noticed a Fokker 
coming over. Bang ! Bang ! repeated the gun many 
times but the obstreperous one sailed on. 

Suddenly out of the high clouds two Americans 
dropt and Fritzie, seeing his escape cut off, be- 
gan diving and sideslipping back to his lines. The 
Americans followed, dropping two and three hun- 
dred feet at a plunge. The droning agony of 
over-worked motors was heard at every turn. Fritz 
was in a precarious position. He swung towards 
our line, then made a sharp bank and started 
homeward in the face of machine gun bullets. In 
another instant the plane made a plunge and 
dashed to earth. One more soul was added to the 
invisible hosts of the battlefield. 

After dinner we started for Toul. As we passed 
the danger zone all breathed deeply. Woolaver 
whistled— a sort of safety valve, good for nerves— 



206 THRU THE FIEES OF FRANCE 

and later broke into, "Now honey, don't be late, 
I want to be there when the band starts playing, ' ' 

Spinning along at a good pace we passed de- 
stroyed villages and untilled fields. Mile upon 
mile we left behind, until finally a few civilians, 
women and children along the roadside were evi- 
dence that we were once more in civilization. At 
five o'clock we passed under the arched toll gate 
into Toul proper. 

Next day we were duly established in office after 
having taken an oath to secrecy, and soon we 
recognized that we were working in an office that 
represented the brains of the Aircraft Service, Sec- 
ond Army, This office in turn was an integral 
part of the Aircraft Service, A. E, F,, under com- 
mand of Col. Hopkins, who received his orders 
direct from Headquarters, A. E, F., General 
Pershing, commanding. 

It required no mean intelligence to understand 
the war-map and its relation to near-peace. "With- 
out divulging army secrets I wrote home and said, 
among other things : The latest reports seem to in- 
dicate that the conference between Generalissimo 
Foch and the German emissaries is proceeding 
satisfactorily. PEACE is actually in sight. Think 
of it ! When you read these lines the whole strug- 
gle will have ended, perhaps, and these words will 
not be thrilling. But think of the time in which 
I am writing. Tomorrow we may know the story. 
Tonight we actually do not know. We may imagine, 
we may even construct a Peace to suit ourselves, 
but imagine the outlet of feeling that will be ours 



LAST DAYS OF THE WAE 207 

when the word comes ringing over the wire. I can 
remember in my letters last month how I hesitated, 
even avoided speaking of the future. From every 
report that reaches the office I can now construct 
but one possible result. ! the day when peace 
comes! It will be difficult to hold the boys; their 
outbursts will be loud and long. Flags will wave, 
drums beat and hearts will throb. 



CHAPTER 50 
November 11th, 1918 

Somewhere in Nonsard Woods in the chill hours 
before dawn crew No. 1 stirred in their bunks to 
ask if this was The Day. Ice cracked under their 
feet later as the boys tramped thru the leafless 
oaks and up to the gun position. Overcoats, 
gloves and extra clothing added a degree of com- 
fort to aching feet and nervous hands. Was this 
the last? THE NEWS: Was it true? Eleven 
'clock ? 

The drum-fire along the Front was intense. In 
the advancing day a new energy seemed to grip 
the artillery. What a holocaust this incessant fire 
must be causing in the closing hours of a world 
war! In the inferno of ages, amid flames and 
steel and enhanced by the fruitful signs of a 
closing Armageddon, the last vestige of the Prus- 
sian war-machine, once proud and haughty, was 
being swept from existence. 

At eleven sharp the gun-crew put thru a clean- 
ing shot and the next instant all activity came to 
an abrupt end. The war was over. 

At Toul the bells were tolling and men, women 
and children were shouting the glad tidings. At 
my typewriter I paused to glance out of the win- 
dow. A Catholic lady over the way was making 
the Sign upon her breast. La guerre finis! 

A few moments before Col. Perkins had read the 
armistice terms and I can truly say that he lacked 



NOVEMBER IITH, 1918 201) 

in military dignity on this occasion. We all smiled 
and proceeded to slap each other upon the back, 
child-like, and were not aware of our actions. Re- 
cent events had unnerved us. 

Out on the Front, as I afterwards learned, the 
opposing armies were meeting on friendly terms 
upon the battlefield. Sgt, Gilbert and a group of 
men drove up to Thiaucourt and crossed no man's 
land. The Germans welcomed the boys with out- 
stretched hands, and in magic friendship both 
friend and enemy met, inspected each's equip- 
ment and exchanged souvenirs. 

At Headquarters there was a general let-down 
from the liigh tension and rejoicing. At noon a 
U. S. band gave a rousing concert down at the 
public square. I fell to merry making among the 
thousands of soldiers representing every Allied na- 
tion, and the villagers. The crowd grew and the 
music increased, flags waved and horns honked, 
bells tolled and people laughed, making apparent 
silly gestures, unmindful of each other. The brisk 
late-autumn air surged thru our being and there 
was a feeling that a New Age was being ushered 
in. 

I returned to the office to clear out some paper 
Vv'ork and then, after a hasty supper, I once more 
walked the streets of Toul and joined tlie throng. 
In the multitudes of peoples I vras lost. 

Darkness came, but wait! What seemed strange? 
Why, it is the illumination of a million incan- 
descent globes from the shop windows thruout the 
town. All lilinds had been removed that very 



mo THEU THE FIKES OF FRANCE 

afternoon, for now the air-raiders were van- 
(juished; the air-raid was a ghost of the past. Hand 
lamps were conspicuously absent. A town that 
seemed at first to be a mere village grew in size 
and the crowds increased as the country people 
joined in. Traversing a dozen crooked streets and 
turning a "million" corners I once more came to 
the crowded public square. At the bandstand I 
hesitated. A cornet solo, "Just a Baby's Prayer 
at Twilight," av/oke tender memories and tears 
stole into my eyes as my heart thrilled in the 
thot of a future homecoming. Music is a won- 
derful agent to awaken the memory and make clear 
the mind. 

The fog began to roll in from somewhere and 
soon the platform lights stood out in the hazy night 
like distant stars. White clouds of vapor escaped 
with every ])rcath and the crisp air spoke of added 
vigor. The usual waves of human beings surged to 
and fro but I remained unmoved. 0. Henry 
advised his readers that he often sought solitude 
in the dense throng. Alone and encircled by 
strains of beautiful music I fell to thinking of 
near and distant past, of the present and ventured 
into the future. With folded arms I kept my 
eyes glued to the haz.y lights and reveled in the 
music. In that hour I wondered if the scientists 
would still cling to the mechanics of the brain 
and the cessation of life at the grave. Surely 
man can no longer be deceived in these things. 
At a late hour I crawled into my straw bunk. 



CHAPTER 51 

A Poem 

Toul is an old city. A high protective wall ;iiu\ 
familiar moat surround the ancient city while 
four or five gates with draw-bridges give access 
to the outside world. If you have seen one French 
city or village you have seen all. Toul is no ex- 
ception to the rule. The streets are just as crooked 
and its business as intangible as ever a layman 
could find in France. 

For tv,elve days following the armistice the of- 
fice force held down chairs at Headquarters — noth- 
ing else. War was over and our paper work 
dropt to the freezing point. Eager to finish a 
story I was working on at the time, I remained 
after hours. It was during the long still watcii 
of the night in this comfortably heated and con- 
venient office that this book was conceived. Once 
started the manuscript was pursued industriously 
night and day. 

Kenneth Hall, humorist and nondescript dram- 
atist, happened to be a fixture of the office. Froiii 
Battery D he was recruited and when he came his 
nonsense came with him. Outside of old ''Deacon" 
Powers, my friend Hall caused me more hearty 
laughter during our fortnight of association than 
I had ever crammed into a like period before in 
my life. 

One night Hall remained at the office. He sat 
near the stove and between his Ethiopian lips he 
held the familiar cigarette. To him friend "agar- 



212 THEU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

ette was the elixir of life. Defiant in all my ad- 
vice lie puffed away furiously and blew the smoke 
in my face. Now this was more than I could 
stand and with an emerald glow in my eyes I 
gave this eighteen-year-old lad the mental trounc- 
ing of his life. He promised to give up the habit, 
and to reinstate himself in iny estiination he wrote. 
that night, the following : 

To the Cigarette 
You were with me on the transport. 

When I crossed the ocean blue. 
You ^vere vcith me in the harbor. 

When the tedious voyage was thru. 
On the long and dusty march, 

With a heavy laden pack. 
You helped me to forget 

About the aching of my back. 
In a stuffy little boxcar 

That was lightly strewn with hay. 
When I couldn't sleep, you helped ine then 

To pass the hours away. 
Thru the dreary months, of training 

You went with me clear thru ; 
Arid when I was ordered to the Front 

I went — and so did you. 
In the dugout under shell-fire, 

In the kitchen after chow, 
In the gun-pit with the gun-crew 

You wer(^ M'ith me everywhere. But now — - 
You must find another master, 

For tho you've never failed me yet. 
For reasons that she'll tell you. 
We now part, friend cigarette. 



A POEM 213 

Needless to say, the next day Hall purchased 
a 3-inch amber cigarette holder and, with this 
walking advertisement, came to the office puffing 
louder and longer than ever. I reflected that 
advice is cheap and that Hall had received his 
share at half-price. We never mentioned the sub- 
ject again, the he continued in his loquacious 
manner and we went on merry making as before. 

Parrish, another fixture of the office, who had 
little or nothing to do, pulled the hob-nails out 
of his ground-grippers and polished up for so- 
ciety. "Gene" Martin dreamed of Kansas City 
and home while Lane longed to return to the old 
game of firing— not at the Front, but on an iron- 
horse running over the Canadian-Pacific. 



CHAPTER 52 
Glad Tidings 

Adjutant Brush called the office force to his 
desk one morning. As we stood at attention trying 
to suppress the emotions that surged thru our 
being the Captain spoke. ' ' We are ordered home, ' ' 
he said and as the magic words fell from his lips 
we beheld a vision. It seemed that we were once 
more in sunny California — a home — the loved one 
— outstretched arms — old familiar land-marks — 
friends — peace. 

Glad tidings animated the office that morning 
and our rejoicing ascended unto heaven. 0! the 
joy that is born of sacrifice. That morning we 
lingered over the cup of life and sipped of its 
native nectar. 

Out at Nonsard Woods Battery B had received 
the word. Skepticism ran rife in the ranks at 
first. Surely there must be some mistake, the boys 
argued. When Lieut. Dows ordered the Battery 
to answer reveille at 5 a. m. the next morning 
and be prepared to march it suddenly dawned 
upon the boys that the word was true. McHenry 
became jubilant to the degree of insanity. Wasn't 
he going home to a wife and baby ? " ! my baby ! 
My baby!" he shouted. Months of suppressed 
emotions broke forth in a phosphoric rhapsody — 
"0! my baby!" 

"Curly" Best, less demonstrative in nature and 
with an eye for business, gathered his souvenirs 



GLAD TIDINGS 216 

about himself. Late into the night the boys argued 
pro and con over their packs. Should they dis- 
card everything but bare essentials to give com- 
fort in marching? Or should all clothing be re- 
tained, especially the numerous souvenirs, trusting 
to the auto trucks for transportation? It was a 
question. 

Around the stoves the boys gathered and the 
flames filtered out thru the pipes. All curtains 
were removed and a candle, shining out into the 
night, stood before every window, a practice that 
had been in vogue since the first night of the 
armistice. Like old Lucifer the Yanks broke every 
rule in defiance of King Restraint. The luminary 
window offering and the leaping flames were but 
examples. 

Several boys rolled their packs in the evening, 
retiring in overcoats and full dress. Corp, Bibby 
always rolled his pack twelve hours early. I never 
saw it to fail. Crumrine usually finished his pack 
three minutes before departure. At a late hour 
the boys settled into a fitful sleep. 

The following morning at five the guard passed 
the word and soon the camp was a-stir. Each 
man rolled his pack and arranged his personl ef- 
fects. All extra ordnance was conveniently stacked 
for the salvage company. After breakfast all pots 
and pans were washed, the field range dismantled 
and provisions boxed. One truck carried all ord- 
nance, equipment and provisions. The aircraft 
gun was left in the hands of the French so now 
the Battery was free to move. 



216 THEU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

The balloon company, thru the courtesy of their 
Captain, furnished several trucks to help in the 
first lap of the homeward journey. When at last 
every detail was complete and the procession was 
off, all eyes were turned to the old camp. In that 
closing hour with the sun hanging in the south- 
ern sky, the trees in silent sleep, the Front in 
silence supreme and the camp's life slowly ebbing 
away, the boys resolved to keep the memory of 
Nonsard Camp forever in the safe and sacred 
sanctum of their hearts. 

Late in the afternoon the Battery reached 
Ecrouves, mentioned in Chapter 26, just outside 
of Toul, and the following day, November 22, 
Woolaver and I returned to our Battery. 

Captain DufSe was in Paris, having gone on his 
regular furlough a week before the signing of the 
armistice. Lieut. Dows brot the Battery down 
from the woods but now Captain Brush, recently 
Adjutant at Headquarters, arrived to command 
the Battery. During Duffie's absence Dows had 
straightened out considerably, so the boys said, 
and had grown to be an altogether likeable fel- 
low. 

At Ecouvres we established quarters in a de- 
serted and ramshackle old building pending ar- 
rival of transportation orders which would send 
us flying over the second lap of our journey. 
Rolling stock was in great demand. However, we 
anticipated an early move. In our new home we 
spread our blankets on ancient floors. Out in the 
yard the kitchen was duly installed and the cooks 
prepared three steaming meals each day. 



GLAD TIDINGS 217 

The neighborhood was generally squalid. Recent 
rains added to the filth, and numerous feet 
churned the mid in the streets then came home 
and walked over the blankets spread upon the 
floor. The boys, having so recently come from a 
neat and orderly camp, were keenly aware of the 
condition. At Ecrouves we were fully initiated 
into the vagrant mysteries of the return trip. 

Steel helmets, gas-masks and trench tools were 
salvaged here and Supply Sgt. Louis turned every 
unnecessary piece of ordnance possible over to 
the central salvage depot at Toul, receiving credit 
for same. 

Extra clothing and souvenirs were thrown aside. 
Woolaver, in a wild attempt to make his pack as 
light as possible and thinking that we would reach 
the States in two weeks at least, threw away all 
his extra underwear and sox. Two months later 
in San Francisco, on the eve of discharge, after 
having worn one undersuit continuously the en- 
tire time, poor Woolaver replaced his blackish 
underclothing with a fresh suit received from the 
the quartermaster. The discarded clothing found 
its way into an ash can. 

I reduced my pack to two blankets, one slicker, 
one jerkin, one undersuit, extra, two pairs of sox, 
shelter half, tent-rope and pins, condiment can, 
mess tins, cup, canteen, razor outfit, soap, towel 
and tooth-brush. My writing materials were car- 
ried in a separate leather carrying case. 

Add to this an overcoat, gun and sidearms and 
the clothing upon the person, and the list is com- 
plete. 



CHAPTER 53 
Homeward Bound 

Headquarters and Supply, C and D Batteries 
arrived and now the Battalion, commanded by 
Major Reily, was complete, with the exception of 
Battery A, which came down from the Argonne 
forest later and joined us at Brest. 

Everyone visited back and forth exchanging 
Battery experiences, trading souvenirs and talk- 
ing over old times. Several libertines held con- 
verse with the crowd down at the village pump 
and succeeded in passing some sophisticated stuff 
for the real article. Or were these brilliant 
lady-smashers polishing up a stock of tales for 
home consumption ? 

On the fifth day our transportation was ready. 
As we swung down the village street four abreast, 
in the early morn, the townspeople gathered to 
give us a last farewell. The muddy promenade 
and threatening sky could not quench our exuber- 
ant spirits and we marched gaily on as a new 
emotion gripped our hearts. We were wont to 
project our thots into the future and picture the 
home-coming, the remaking of family ties and 
meeting friends. A secret happiness was firmly 
planted in every breast, 

A half hour later the Battalion reached the Toul 
station. The four Batteries were assigned, in 
equal number, to twenty freight cars. Two bales 
of straw and enough provisions for five days' 



HOMEWARD BOUND 219 

travel, consisting of canned beef, beans, tomatoes 
and jam, were distributed to each car. 

The usual delay in exchange of documents and 
army red-tape almost unnerved us as we im- 
patiently awaited the signal of departure. Afcout 
noon we moved slowly out of the railroad yards 
of Toul. 

There were no regrets to leave behind, no heart- 
aches and farewells and handkerchiefs and tears. 
Back to the land of liberty, back to God's coun- 
try and home we were bound, and the moving 
wheels were music in our ears. 

On Wednesday, November 21, daylight broke 
over our slow freight as we were moving along 
the banks of the famous River Marne via Chalons, 
Epernay, Chateau Theirry, Meaux and Paris. 
Ghastly ruins greeted our gaze at every turn. 
Every town and village bordering the banks of the 
Marne had been reduced to utter destruction and 
devastation by the ostentatious Hun months be- 
fore. Thousands of shell holes dotted the land- 
scape, orchards were literally uprooted and a path- 
way of trenches, skirting either side of the River 
Marne for miles, were as open gashes in the earth. 

Numerous graves, some decorated, others livid 
and sombre, struck a pathetic note in the harmony 
of the battlefield. We passed Epernay, twenty 
miles south of the now famous Rheims, with the 
sun at its zenith. At nightfall our troop train 
steamed thru Chateau Thierry, made famous by 
the Yanks, and now as the day was ended so also 
was our career at the Front ended. Our battle- 



220 THEU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

field ride during the day was a summing up of 
the horrors of warfare; an epitome of the mighty 
struggle just ended. 

In the twilight we prepared our beds, closed the 
side-doors of the boxcar and were soon settled. 
The boys chatted and spun yarns well into the 
night. 

Thanksgiving morning we awoke in the outskirts 
of Paris. A stopover near the round-house enabled 
us to wash our hands and face and cleanse the sticky 
mess-tins. Each battery cook prepared a boiler 
of steaming coffee along the railroad tracks. It was 
the first warmth in two days and we sipped our 
coffee to the very dregs. 

An hour later, being advised that every man 
was accounted for, Major Reily ordered the train 
to proceed. Saying a fond farewell to Eiffel 
Tower, which we could see in the distance, we 
slipped out of Paris and were soon gliding along 
the fertile banks of the Seine. The beautiful 
valley with its bordering hills and well-ordered 
homes was a marked contrast to the battlefields of 
yesterday. 

At Mantes on the Seine our itinerant freight 
quit the beautiful river and we were destined to 
travel via Evreux — Alencon — Mayenne — Laval, 
and on thru to Brest over the same route we had 
traveled inland five months previous. 

In western France we celebrated the annual 
festival of Thanksgiving. Twenty-eight men in 
our car partook of cold beef, beans, tomatoes, hard 
bread and jam. Water from our canteens passed 



HOMEWARD BOtlND 221 

for grape-juice. Ex-Cook Steger was in our car 
and helped dish out the food in equal portions. 
It was necessary to manage carefully in the 
crowded and bouncing car lest our mess-tins would 
turn turtle and spill the food over our hay, as 
did happen several times in the distance we had 
come. 

With our Pilgrim Fathers we joined in Thanks- 
giving, not for the food we were eating, but for 
the great privilege of returning home to our loved 
ones in America. 



CHAPTER 54 

The Mud-Hole 

On the afternoon of the fourth day (November 
29) at 4:30, our long freight, with its human 
cargo, rolled into the railroad terminus at Brest. 
Captain Duffie was at the station to meet us tho 
now he was detached from our Battery. In the 
last few miles of travel we had watched eagerly 
the distant ocean, then the harbor and all its 
activities. We could see several huge transports 
riding at anchor and the boys argued that we 
might go aboard immediately upon arrival. But 
this was not to be. Instead we were herded out 
to the mud-hole. 

From the station to Camp Pontenazin the dis- 
tance is three miles or more. Now for the boys 
to walk this distance \^^th full packs after having 
had no exercise for four days was a severe tax 
on the phyhical body. 

"Snapper" gave up near the summit of the first 
hill and fell out. In his weakened condition he 
could not make the grade. The roads were muddy 
and a light mist fell from threatening clouds. 
Winter followed us to camp where ''he" placed 
extra orders with ''his" mud-mixers. 

Once arrived we groped around in the dark for 
our barracks. Mud was everywhere. Mud was 
king. Crossing a lot I slipped and buried my 
knees in a foot of mud. My feet were caked to 
the ankles. Mud was on my hands and on my 



THE MUD-HOLE 223 

rifle and in this condition I stumbled into a four- 
walled building which crafty contractors dared to 
call a barracks. Hundreds of buildings had been 
constructed at Camp Pontenazin of a like nature 
and you will see presently the diabolical effect 
wrought by the hand of graft. 

In the city of incessant winter rain contractors 
dared to erect these structures without foundation 
or flooring. Much lumber was saved the build- 
ers — and dollars, too. The usual excavation was 
necessary to make the buildings level. One end 
of our barracks was too feet below the surface 
of the ground and this fact accounted for the 
large pool of water we found in the center of the 
room. 

During our eight days' residence in this hell- 
hole dozens of boys from the Battalion reported 
to the hospital in sickness and, to my knowledge, 
at least two died. 

The first night we entered our "home" every- 
one dropped his pack and looked about in bewil- 
derment. No straw, no bunk and not even dry 
ground to sleep upon. Scouting parties were al- 
ready searching the neighborhood for lumber. 
They returned without success. Someone discov- 
ered a stack of corrugated sheet-iron. Hurrah! 
Before the evening had run its course every pri- 
vate had a sheet-iron bed. Even tho our corru- 
gated iron mattresses were a degree harder than 
wood, still it prevented the dampness creeping 
thru. 

Battery A had arrived earlier in the day and 



224 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

now the usual greetings were in order. Batteries 
A and B always were closely tied, having trained 
together at Fort Rosecrans. Captain Richie, their 
old commander, a West Pointer and a prince, was 
to this day an object of their affections. Both 
A and B were officially credited with two planes 
and this happy coincidence led to greater friend- 
ship. We talked well into the night and later 
when all was quiet I heard the rain patter upon 
the roof and felt the lumps in my iron mattress. 
Next morning we ironed out the wrinkles as best 
we could and then lined up for "chow." 

Now, breakfast or any other meal was positively 
taken in jeopardy. To travel from our barracks 
to the kitchen required acrobatic skill. The treach- 
erous mud-holes and slippery knolls caused us to 
step about like rope-dancers. Down near the 
kitchen the mud-mixers worked overtime. Twen- 
ty-five thousand men daily churned the sodden 
earth unmercifully. Four simple board runways, 
two hundred feet long, would have been excellent 
economy. 

In this concentration camp water was taboo 
except for drinking purposes. For this reason the 
boys would tackle a rain puddle just outside the 
barracks, and diligently set about their toilet. Of 
course much care was not given to manicures and 
shoe-shines during this delightful sojourn. 

Baths were in order a half mile over at the 
original Napoleon barracks. But to these baths 
the boys refused to go, especially since every man 
was the proud possessor of one nice clean under- 



THE MUD-HOLE 225 

suit which was being saved for the day of tri- 
umphant entry into the promised land of good old 
U. S. A. To conduct a laundry in mud and rain 
was out of the question and the boys argued that 
to bathe and replace soiled clothing was ridiculous 
so the baths went by the board. 

French highbinders just outside the camp ped- 
dled food at thrice its value. The food from our 
kitchen was fit for the poverty stricken only and 
this fact was responsible for the large sum of 
money that found its way into the Frenchman's 
coffers. 

For eight days we existed in this mud-hole and 
each day was rumored to be the last. "Tomorrow 
v.'^e move." But tomorrow was several decades in 
arriving. Each night the ribs of our corrugated 
mattress grew wider and deeper. Each night our 
curses grew louder. 



CHAPTER 55 
On the High Sea 

Finally the day came. Our transport, the 
Leviathan, was riding at anchor in the harbor. 
At noon all packs were rolled. As we marched 
out of the mud-hole the sun broke thru the 
clouds, the first sunlight in eight days. To sail 
from France with the sun shining seemed to be 
in the natural order of things. 

In the streets of Brest the children gathered. 
Hundreds of wooden shoes echoed and re-echoed 
upon the cobblestones. They sang, "Hail, hail, 
the gang's all here," et cetera. Five months pre- 
vious we had heard the same melody. It was 
romantic then but commonplace now. 

Down the street several M. P.'s were stationed 
to guide the traffic. As we passed Ginn shouted, 
"Who won the war?" And immediately a chorus 
of voices rang forth, "The M. P." It was difficult 
to discern whether our friend the M. P. turned 
white thru rage or fright. 

The inner harbor of Brest was not deep enough 
to receive the U. S. S. Leviathan, largest ship in 
the world, measuring 40 feet from the water line 
to the keel. To reach the transport we shipped 
aboard a lighter. Twenty-five hundred men passed 
the gate that afternoon and finally, after the usual 
delay, the Captain withdrew from the dock. 

It was late when the lighter got under way. 
Darkness gathered. The sea was cold and choppy, 



ON HIGH SEA 227 

making the trip a perilous one for our small well- 
loaded boat. Ten minutes later we were riding 
alongside the hugh transport. Thru the port- 
hole we could see an iron-wall and it seemed to 
rise out of the sea and ascend into heaven. We 
knew it to be the Leviathan but we could see only 
the iron-wall. 

Suddenly the lighter registered a violent im- 
pact. We are thrown to our feet. Sharp inves- 
tigated the trouble thru the nearest port-hole. 
With a look of agony, impossible to impersonate, 
he cried out, "She's cracked in two — what shall 
we do?" 

With visions of a sinking ship and a frantic 
mob I immediately poked my head out the port- 
hole to verify Sharp's remark. A glance was 
sufficient to understand the alarm, and then to 
prevent the riot which threatened I shouted, 
"Hold your horses; she's 0. K. !" The boat was 
a fantail lighter and from a port-hole it had the 
appearance of being bent, or cracked as Sharp 
thot, especially when the searchlights played aft. 
The Captain had made a bad landing but soon 
a dozen guy-ropes held the infant boat to the 
bosom of the giant father. 

As we passed through the corridors of the trans- 
port our brother, the gob, eyed us curiously. Ours 
was the first returning combat unit they had seen, 
and being fresh from the field with pack and gun, 
and souvenirs profusely in evidence, the long line 
of eager spectators pointed many questions. "Is 
that the Kaiser's lid?" they asked Sgt. Hoffman, 



228 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

who carried a German dress helmet. "Curly" 
Best, the souvenir hound, paraded in all his glory. 
There was a bit of psychology in his display, too, 
for later he sold a few souvenirs at a handsome 
profit. 

The ship's guide escorted us to compartment 
F. R. S.-l, F deck amidship. After a good meal 
we rolled into real spring bunks and for the first 
time in two weeks we closed our eyes in com- 
fort. 

The next day, Sunday, December 8th, at 2 in 
the afternoon, the Leviathan got under way and 
ten minutes later passed Point de St. Mathieu. 
Nine thousand men filled the decks to overflow- 
ing, all anxious to bid adieu to the land of 
Lafayette, yet glad to close a chapter in life which, 
to some, had proved so bitter. 

As the prow of the stately ship cut a west- 
wardly path in the choppy Bay of Biscay we 
watched the fading shore until finally a glint at 
the unbroken sky-line was silent proof that we 
were riding the high seas. With the submarine 
menace gone we felt a great sense of security and 
comfort. 

All thru the afternoon I watched the waves 
dash against the iron monster, and I was aware 
of a throbbing heart and a lump in my throat. 
Were we sailing home ? ! how sweet the mem- 
ory; how eager the mind. Seventeen days till 
Christmas; would the Battery be discharged and 
home by then ? It was much to ask for. We were 
fortunate in being the first unit ordered home, 



ON HIGH SEA 229 

yes, but now that we were sailing, would it be 
possible to arrive home Christmas? And see the 
folks? And partake of a real dinner? And do 
real honest-to-goodness things? 



CHAPTER 56 
The Horror of War 

The passenger list included over 5,000 wounded 
and disabled warriors. Among these boys our 
small unit of 500 men moved each day and the 
horror of warfare, in these men, was emphasized 
to its highest degree. 

The dead — they do not suffer; their reward is 
heaven. But look upon these mutilated men, 
these legless, armless, eyeless men. Look over the 
list and be not deceived. Yet in greater plight 
than these are the shell-shocked, the hopeless de- 
mented lads who are homeward bound, back to 
loved ones whom they will recognize not. 

The ship was literally saturated with anaes- 
thetics. Oil decks A and B our helpless bed-ridden 
brothers passed the weary hours, some writhing 
unto death, even, in an unexpected relapse. 

Several hundred bodies of sailors who had suc- 
cumbed to the "flu" were piled high on a lower 
deck. 

The poison gas played its part. Hundreds of 
men were confined to the open deck that delicate 
lung-tissues might receive every ounce of oxygen 
possible. 

I listened for hours to the stories of real 
heroes, men who had actually come face to face 
with the Hun and had felt the cold steel in the 
encounter. Such as these were wearing the Dis- 
tinguished Service Medal. 



THE HOEEOR OF WAE 231 

One lad, a typical American, had had a hard 
tussle with life at the Front. A man of natural 
prowess and agility this soldier was selected to 
crawl up to an advanced position in no man 's land 
under cover of darkness. He went. A combina- 
tion gas shell exploded nearby and a fragment 
of shell case ripped away the heel of his foot. 
In the momentary pain and agony he inhaled 
the fumes of phosgene gas. Another instant and 
the mask was adjusted but the poison gas had 
played its part. Now our hero can neither walk 
nor breathe with comfort and longevity will be his 
phantom dream. 

Another doughboy, with a D. S. Medal, went 
over the top somewhere in Belleau Woods. He re- 
turned with an ugly facial wound, the cheek-bone 
blown away and the left eye hanging from its 
socket. The eye was replaced and the wound 
healed but the disfigurement was destined to cause 
great lamentation among his friends and relatives. 
And so the story goes. I need not dwell further 
upon the atrocious results of modern warfare ; our 
war literature is teeming with ghastly and abhor- 
rent narratives. 



CHAPTER 57 

Food Jugglers 

Eight long days our titanic Leviathan sailed the 
deep blue sea. The second day out found many 
boys Hat upon their backs in sea-sickness unable 
to move or speak. One long weary day did I toss 
in agony, counting every lunge of the boat. To- 
wards evening I decided to "let 'er go." I did, 
and later out on deck in the fresh air I recovered 
and was made immune from sea-sickness for the 
rest of the voyage. With returning health came 
a vigorous appetite, and two meals per day were 
not sufficient to appease the appetite. 

The natural result was that the men, lined up 
and passed the kitchen unto the fourth and fifth 
time. System having long since been interred, 
the ingenious ones ran the blockade of look-outs, 
struggled into line near the entrance and, with 
clean mess-tins, passed the cooks unnoticed. Now 
this condition caused a shortage of food and the 
men bringing up the rear were decidedly out of 
luck. The head-cook would open cold reserve 
rations and serve the remainder of the hungry mob 
as best he could. Rear was an adept at the game 
of food jugglery and each meal would be finishing 
his fourth or fifth helping while our Battery was 
just beginning. 

One evening toward the end of the voyage, w^hile 
the jugglers played heavy stakes, our mess line 
moved up to the kitchen in no less than two hours 



FOOD JUGGLERS 233 

and a half. We were hungry and half-starved 
and as we passed the balcony of the mess hall we 
could see, standing around the mess tables, dozens 
of men belonging to our Battery who had cheated 
their M'ay in. On this occasion I allowed myself 
to express the greatest exasperation I have ever 
known. 

The canteen aboard was sold out and men who 
possessed food of any description were in clover. 
Oranges sold for a dollar each. 

The return trip was decidedly an unromantic 
affair. Practically our entire time was spent in 
the mess line. The saving grace was our home 
coming. We were prepared for any hardship 
whatsoever. We were homeward bound and that 
was sufficient reason for rejoicing. 

When we were three days at sea our six months ' 
service terminated and Major Reily authorized one 
gold chevron to be placed on the left sleeve, three 
inches above the wrist. A regular sewing-bee was 
held down in our compartment. Kottinger went 
into business and charged two-bits per chevron. 
Later Mathews joined the firm and the two boys 
did a land office business. 



CHAPTER 58 
Statue of Liberty 

The Leviathan steamed into territorial waters 
on the 15th, but on account of a heavy fog we 
were obliged to anchor outside Sandy Hook until 
the following morning. 

"When the 16th finally dawned we were up and 
packed, ready to leave the ship at a moment's 
notice; we were ready to step foot upon native 
soil, and by the light of Jupiter we pledged our- 
selves never to let the Grand Old Lady do another 
about face. 

Eagerly and patiently we watched the time. 
''She's moving," came a chorus of bass voices as 
the old boat struggled to clear a sand-bar. The 
fog was lifting and the Captain was making ready 
for a triumphant entry. Everyone was ordered 
below. At each port-hole were dozens of bobbing 
heads, all straining to catch a glimpse of land. 
Someone shouted, "There's the Old Lady!" and we 
all struggled for a glimpse. Sure enough, it was 
the Statue of Liberty. 

Our field of vision was limited but our mind 
encompassed the entire Bay — and beyond. We 
had gained a glimpse, this was sufficient for the 
moment. The knowledge of arriving safely home 
was paramount. We could sight-see another day. 

Passing thru The Narrows' forty foot channel 
the Leviathan's keel cleared the bottom by two 
feet. In the Upper Bay we were met and serenaded 
by a harbor patrol carrying a full band and sev- 
eral Red Cross girls. Thru our port-hole we could 



STATUTE OF LIBERTY 235 

hear the music. And the girls! — why, they were 
real American girls such as we had not seen in 
six months ! 

Up the Hudson we steamed and later slipped 
into a dock at Hoboken. Another band on the 
wharf, playing popular airs, joined in the racket 
of sirens, whistles, cheering, howling and general 
serenading. 

In the afternoon paper we read : ' ' The most im- 
posing spectacle New York has witnessed since 
American troops began to arrive here from over- 
seas attended the arrival today of the mighty 
transport Leviathan, formerly the Vaterland, with 
9,000 officers and men. 

''Steaming majestically toward her dock in 
Hoboken, the great liner was greeted by thousands 
of spectators who had gathered at Battery Park, 
along the Jersey shores and in the windows and 
on roofs of downtown buildings. 

"During the ship's course from quarantine to 
her pier thousands of whistles and sirens joined 
in the greeting and with the ringing of bells New 
York was reminded of 'Armistice Day.' " 

The monster ship was securely anchored and 
then in the hour of solemn resolution and heart- 
felt gratitude we filed out of the trans-Atlantic 
liner one by one, down the gang-plank and onto 
the solid foundations of a mighty Republic. 

Red Cross girls served coffee and buns, telegrams 
were dispatched, photographs taken, souvenirs in- 
spected, and a bit later we were tucked away in 
coaches and on our way to Camp Merrit. It was 
all over. It seemed a dream. 



CHAPTER 59 

Camps Merritt and Dix 

Arrived in camp our first act of violence was 
committed down at the canteen. Each man 
"killed" a whole American pie and a brick of ice- 
cream. The French refused to make these eatable 
"eats," so now, after six months' absence, it re- 
mained for us to become thoroly acquainted once 
more with pie a-la-mode. 

Our next excitement was the cootie bath, clothes 
and all. Under 500 pounds of steam our O. D. 
suit was prest into a thousand wrinkles and 
the next day when I invaded New York City on 
pass my uniform looked like a baked apple and 
my hob-nailed shoes, ringing upon the pavement, 
advertised the fact. But for all that I celebrated 
by sitting in the front row at the Hippodrome, 
largest show-house on earth. We overseas tramps 
did the town up generally and returned to camp 
next morning just in time to line up and march 
to the next out-going train. 

All the way to Camp Dix, near Wrightstown, 
New Jersey, our all-night crowd, fatigued and 
weary, closed their eyes to the passing world. 

At Dix the boys were destined to spend more 
gloomy days than they had ever experienced before 
with the exception of the mud-hole. 

At Dix the holiday season came and went. 
Every day was to be the last. "Tomorrow we 
move," was the common expression. A few days 



CAMPS MERRITT AND DIX 237 

before Christmas the boys threatened to ''go over 
the hill." Why should Uncle Sam elect to keep 
us when were of no earthly use? We stood no 
formations, mounted no guards. Christmas day 
arrived, then passed into eternity and with its 
passing the nefarious red-tape machine turned its 
wheel for the millionth time. Ten days later, on 
Janary 5th, we moved! 

In the meanwhile we celebrated the holidays as 
best we could. Blanky and Jester made trips to 
New York City in their tailor-mades. "Vic" 
Ledgerton drove the Red Cross jitney and jollied 
with the girls. Others went to the Wednesday and 
Saturday evening dances at Wrightstown. "Herb" 
Fears borrowed my three dollar russet shoes and 
made the trip to Philadephia with Gibson as es- 
cort. All others short of "kail" haunted the 
YMCA free shows. 

Have you ever heard an army hoax? Here 
is one : Upon learning that all company funds in 
the treasury would automatically revert to the 
Quartemaster after disolution of the Battery and 
that in all likelihood the Battery would be dis- 
solved within the week. Captain Brush proceeded 
to spend our fifteen hundred dollar mess fund. 
During the Christmas holidays the kitchen was 
overstocked with turkey, chicken, fruit, nuts, vege- 
tables, cakes, pies and cigars to the full extent 
of fifteen hundred dollars. Naturally several dis- 
tinguished privates, a sergeant or two and the 
camp dogs gorged to capacity. They believed in 
the gospel of "aches and pains," arch-enemy of 
Horace Fletcher and Dr. Tanner. , V 



238 THRU THE FIRES OF FRANCE 

Within the week our funds were gone and soon 
the food disappeared. Then to cap the climax we 
lived on army beans and rice, or the regular al- 
lowance of forty cents per man per day, for the 
next twenty-four days. ! how the memory of 
turkey, cranberries and cake filled the empty cor- 
ners of our being. 

The weather was bitter, especially at night. 
Around the big heater the boys gathered every 
day to discuss the ways of the army. For in- 
stance, they could not quite forgive Major Reilly 
in neglecting to place a requisition for ticks arid 
straw the first night in camp. Several men were 
in the hospital already and all because of this 
gross negligence, they argued. 

Edgar H. Voigt died at Camp Merritt. "Smiles" 
we called him and a fine lad, too. His body lies in 
an earthly sepulchre, but Edgar himself knows no 
limitation, of this I am certain. It was reported 
that Tom Sewell, Chester Donley and Roy Bed- 
ford also passed away at Camp Merritt, but I 
have never been able to verify the fact. 

And now the Battery began to disolve. Nathan, 
Lyon, Kirk, Needham, Parker, Yourstone, Crum- 
rine, Jorgensen and Steger all received discharges 
at Dix. 

Old "Pa-a-arker" made the rounds first and bid 
all goodbye. The others followed suit and we were 
tempted to shed a tear or two. These boys whom 
we had known so intimately for a year and a half 
were now gone from our lives. 

Our equipment was all turned into the Quarter- 



CAMPS MERRITT AND DIX 239 

master, except blankets and mess tins. The office 
force worked overtime and all records were okayed 
finally. 

At last, after many days of bitter and lonesome 
existence, the word was passed around and on 
January 5th we marched thru Camp Dix in mob 
formation. Each man carried his little bundle in 
his own way. There was no regulation — we were 
no longer a Battery, but were now designated as 
Second Provisional Company, 

It seemed that army officials had decided at 
last to ship us to the Presidio, San Francisco, to 
be mustered out. At Dix we had received our final 
physical examination in view of discharge, but this 
proved a slip, and in the Red Tape machine at the 
Presidio we were subjected to another examination 
of like nature. 



CHAPTER 60 
California and Home 

At the Dix station we boarded Pullmans, that 
is, they were called Pullmans, At Pittsburg the 
next morning Colonel Hayden refused to move his 
troops another inch and demanded that our foul- 
smelling, broken-down, thirty-five year old cars be 
replaced by standards. The government was pay • 
ing the Pullman Company for first-class stock and 
Col. Hayden demanded a square deal. 

In France we read in the columns of the New 
York Herald, European Edition, official accounts 
wherein Secretary of War Baker promised all re- 
turning soldiers the best that Uncle Sam could 
offer. But it seemed that the Pullman Company's 
patriotism vanished in its greed for dollars. 

In France there was good reason for traveling 
in box-cars; rolling stock was limited. Not so in 
the States. 

After a lapse of nine hours the Pullman Com- 
pany finallj'' furnished the cars which Uncle Sam 
had contracted for and once more we were started 
on our homeward journey. 

Snow was on the ground but in our Standards 
we were replete in style and comfort — thanks to 
Col. Hayden. ' ' Scribby, " " Big Boy, " and I were 
a trinity of friends in the compartment which we 
happened to land in the mad scramble for berths. 

At Chicago the following day we were booked 
as second section of number Nine, Santa Fe, leav- 



CALIFORNIA AND HOME 241 

ing at 9:50 a. m. for San Francisco. For the 
next four days we traveled thru Missouri, Kan- 
sas, Colorado, New Mexico, Ariozna and California. 
Snow covered the ground all the way to Flagstaff. 
On January 10th we crossed the Colorado River 
at Needles and now we were once more m Cali- 
fornia, the land of sunshine. 

In the morning when old Sol looked down upon 
our moving troop train thru a clear-cut atmosphere 
and the sage brush w^afted its nectarine on every 
breeze I stood in the door of our empty baggage 
car. While I remained silent gazing out over the 
low hills, watching the brilliant sun and sage 
brush dancing in the breeze of the on-rushing 
train, it was borne home to me as never before that 
California was home. 

Over the Tehachapi and up the San Joaquin 
valley we traveled and at every station we were 
met by cheering throngs and Red Cross girls. 
Faulk met his brother in Barstow ; Ingram saw his 
girl in Fresno ; Merwin met some friends in Stock- 
ton. "Home Sweet Home" rang within our hearts 
all day long and the next morning we awoke to 
the music of the Bay waters. It was Saturday 
and as the Ferry left its mooring the civilians, 
crossing to their work, grouped about us and we 
answered their numerous questions as best we 
could. At the Ferry in San Francisco a large 
delegation of Home Boosters showered us with 
gifts. A crowd quickly gathered to offer us a 
royal welcome and every soldier displayed an ir- 
resistible smile. The sacrifice had been made ; now 
came the reward, the glory and the supreme satis- 



242 THRU THE FIEES OF FRANCE 

faction of knowing that the country's call for men 
found us soldiers, not slackers. "We played the 
game, and we played it to a finish. 

The last days of army life at the Presidio rolled 
by one by one until finally on January 20th at ten 
in the morning the boys lined up for the last time 
to receive the coveted paper — the DISCHARGE. 

Once more we gathered in the barracks, but this 
time as civilians. Sgt. Daniels was just plain Mr. 
Daniels and we "bucks" had been suddenly ele- 
vated to the same position. 

Thru all our joking ran a strain of regret. Un- 
der the sacred folds of Old Glory we had marched 
to war and during our intimate association we had 
grown into a big family. Now the family was dis- 
integrating and soon we would be scattered to the 
four winds. 

Brighter thots of home coming soothed our 
otherwise high-pitched emotions and we gathered 
our few personal effects together, buttoned our 
coats, and left the Camp. 

That evening the Owl's passenger list included 

some of the happiest men on earth and the next 

day at Los Angeles we were receivd into loving 

arms and showered with the tenderest blessings 

that ever a mother, wife or sweetheart bestowed. 

There are moments in one's life that can never be 

erased. The sacred memory of our home coming 

will live thru life and death — yes, unto eternity. 
• • • « 

Battery B is now a memory. Thru all the days 
of my life I shall never forget ''The Boys." We 
were pals in war and now we are pals in PEACE. 



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